All's Fair In Love and Law
by Peachdreamsandperseus
Summary: "Setting down the book of fairytales, he wonders if reading them to her is right – life isn't a fairytale. There are no handsome princes, damsels in distress or fairy godmothers who can put everything right with a wave of their magic wand. No, he wants her to grow up knowing that she has to be the heroine of her own story." - Modern!AU
1. Of Course It's the End

**_GUYS, GUYS, GUYS... I FINISHED MY DEGREE YESTERDAY! I'M FREEEEEEE! Anyway, here's my latest offering to celebrate - just a prologue for the moment to test the waters. It's the much anticipated sequel to Suppressio Veri. I say sequel, it takes place in that ten year gap between chapters two and three. I also say 'anticipated'... yeah, we'll see. Enjoy and, as always, reviews = love. I'm completely free for the summer now, so hopefully updates will come quickly._**

* * *

"Matthew!" she moans, fisting her hands into the sheets. This bed creaks something terrible, and she wouldn't be surprised if the entire hotel could hear them.

He says nothing, merely responds with a groan from his position between her legs at the foot of the bed. They've been at this for so long now – she'd started by herself, in the bathroom of all places, but quickly realised that she needed his assistance. He'd only been too happy to oblige, appearing at the door to her room in what seemed like seconds. From there, they'd tried against the dressing table and the armchair before finally collapsing onto the bed. Now it seemed at last that that glorious release she'd been searching for. It comes in next to no time, what with him putting those nimble fingers of his to good use – and it's absolutely glorious.

"And you couldn't have done that on your own?" he asks.

"I tried! Really, I did. I was pulling and twisting the damn thing for about half an hour before I called you."

"Well that's where you're going wrong. You need to be gentle with it."

She pouts at him as she props herself up against the pillows, beckoning for him to join her. He scoots up the bed and greets her with a kiss. Sighing contentedly, she cuddles up to his chest and toys with the fabric of his navy blue t-shirt.

"So, did you only get me up here to help you get your boots off or is there something else you wanted?"

Mary laughs. "The zip was stuck! That thing just wasn't budging, what was I supposed to do? Leave it on?"

He chuckles and kisses the top of her head affectionately. "Well, I was glad to be of assistance. You know how much a fan I am of removing your clothing."

"Matthew!" she replies, swatting him playfully before leaning up to kiss him again. "But I suppose the hero of the hour should be rewarded in some way," she says almost seductively as she gently pushes him flat on his back.

"And what if Edith comes back?"

"She can sleep in the hall for all I care."

"Now that's not very nice, is it?"

"I'm not a very nice person."

"On the contrary, I think you're rather lovely." He kisses her neck, smiling as it makes her sigh. "In every way."

Mary smiles, she doesn't deserve this man and she's missed him terribly. "It just feels like we've not had time to ourselves in ages."

"Mmm... I know what you mean. But, you know... **I **have my own room."

"Yes but, the thing is darling, your mother is in the room next door... I don't feel like a repeat of what happened last time, do you?"

Matthew laughs, recalling that afternoon last summer when they'd mistakenly believed they had the house to themselves for the afternoon and decided to make the most of it in the loudest way possible, only to come back downstairs to find his mother sitting there with a cup of tea and the volume notched up on Midsommer Murders a little louder than necessary. Mary hadn't been able to meet Isobel Crawley's eyes since.

"Do you think we'll ever just get some time to ourselves?"

"I might have a solution to that, now that you mention it," he says, twisting a curl of her hair around his fingers. "You see, I have this very empty flat in Manchester, one that gets rather cold in winter. It's not very big, but I'd say just the right size for two."

"Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

"We've lived together before."

"Yes but... not like this. Not just us two. Do you think we could do it?"

"Well," Mathew smiles. "I suppose there's only one way to find out."

_**-xxx-**_

_**One Year Later**_

She hates Manchester. She hates the accent, she hates the way the tram creeps up on you like some great steel beast threatening to swallow you whole as you try to cross the road, she hates the fact that it always seems to rain and, although she wouldn't go so far as to say she hates him right now, she's had enough. They can't keep living like this – they can go for days without seeing one another, despite sharing the same flat and, when they do finally find the time to be together, the atmosphere is tense and tempers are frayed. They knew it wasn't going to be all sunshine and roses; they're far too volatile for that. People often wonder how they've made it this far – three years have passed since that evening in a deserted University library, and it's been turbulent to say the very least. Settling on a career in law, Matthew had moved back to Manchester to study the Legal Practice Course at Manchester Met after securing a training contract with a local firm in the city. Mary, on the other hand had still been at a complete loss as to what to do with the rest of her life. A gap year had taken her to America to visit her family over there and what started as a summer in the Hamptons had turned into a cross-country adventure with her cousins that kept her away much of the year. He'd visited once or twice, spending a long weekend with her in New York just before Christmas and again during the Easter holidays. When she'd returned, he'd realised that it was going to be impossible to ever let her go again, hence asking her to move in with him.

They've never really had any major rows, but the novelty of this new and exciting adventure has well and truly worn off. Even just the little tiny things have them snapping at each other constantly and it's becoming unbearable. This has been the final straw though – she doesn't even know why she feels like this or what's caused her to snap. All she can hear is the clacking of her heels on the pavement, the relentless patter of raindrops against her umbrella, and the splashing of puddles as car tyres disperse the muddy water that floods the potholes in the road. The sound of him following close behind and calling her name doesn't even register – she's just so focused on getting to her destination and on what she knows she needs to do next.

"Mary, **please **speak to me!" he demands as she pushes her way through the front door, making a beeline for the bedroom. "MARY! What... what are you doing?" he asks, watching as she pulls her suitcase from the top of the wardrobe, flinging clothes into it haphazardly.

"I just... I need... I DON'T KNOW!" she yells. "I just don't know anymore."

"Don't know **what**?"

"I DON'T KNOW! It's just this... us. I love you Matthew, so much, but I don't like what we've become. I think I just need some room to breathe."

Her words are like a dagger to his heart and it suddenly feels as though his entire world has just collapsed in on itself. "You... you're leaving?"

"It's not forever."

"Where will you go?"

She shrugs as she drops a pair of Manolos into the case. "Yorkshire, London... I don't know, just wherever the first train out of here takes me."

He's trying to remain calm – his hands are balled up into fists and the tears that threaten to spill sting his eyes. If his being entirely honest with himself, he's seen this coming for a very long time...

...but that doesn't make the pain any easier to bear.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, bracing her hands against the dressing table and staring down at the floor.

Matthew swallows hard. "I'm sorry too."

"Don't apologise to me... you've done nothing wrong."

"Then why are you..."

"I just have to. Please, just let me go."

"You'll come back though?"

She looks up at him, silent tears streaking down her porcelain skin, and nods. "Yes. I promise."

_**-xxx-**_

She does indeed return to Manchester, just over a month later in fact. However, it isn't the grand romantic reunion that either of them have secretly hoped for these past few weeks. There are no words of love whispered in each other's ears, no bouquets of flowers and cuddles of the sofa. What there is, however, is a rather chaste kiss on his cheek as she slips the key to the flat into his hand.

"Nothing ever goes right for us, does it?" he asks with a melancholy smile as she shakes her head. "We're cursed, you and I. And there's nothing to be done about it." Setting the key on the coffee table, he takes her hands in his, brushing his thumbs across her knuckles one last time. These next few words will be some of the hardest he's ever said in all his twenty-four years. "Let's be strong, Mary. And let's accept...that this is the end."

"Of course it's the end. How could it not be?"


	2. London Calling

**_Wow! I'm amazed how many of you have added this to your alerts and stuff... and, to those of you who reviewed, I'll get back to you soon if I already haven't. Here we go, the next chapter... Enjoy :)_**

**_Author's Note: Allen and Overy is a real firm. It's a pretty huge deal in the realm of commercial law and the seventh largest in the world. I don't really know much about this field of law, my calling is in Family and Private Client it seems. _**

* * *

**_Three Years Later_**

He leans back in his chair, twiddling his pen between his fingers as he stares out of the window and across the sprawling London skyline. He really is living the dream career wise – towards the end of his training contract back in Manchester, he'd been introduced, purely by chance, to one of the senior partners of Allen and Overy. They'd spoken and he was particularly impressed with his work ethic and professionalism and convinced him to consider making an application. The magic circle was something that Matthew had always thought about, especially since he'd made the decision to go into commercial law. Saying that though, he'd never once thought that it would be quite so soon into his career – not that he's complaining, he loves his job. Yes, it's hard work and the hours are long, but it's challenging in the best way possible and the doors all this has opened all lead to even bigger and better things in the future. He rather fancies Saudi Arabia, maybe even China or Hong Kong – or at least he had done when there had been nothing to keep him in England. Now everything is different. He doesn't regret what happened for a single second though – it's changed him, and he's a better man because of it. It hadn't been written into his plans, none of this had. Sometimes though, fate deals you a rather good hand and it would be foolish not to play it. Life, he thinks, is good. Very good indeed.

**_-xxx-_**

The Cannes film festival is, admittedly, one of the highlights of her entire year – that and fashion week. As tradition dictates, they'd wrapped up with a weekend in Paris where she'd caught up with her sister, Edith. The pair fought like cat and dog when they were younger, but Edith's move to France really was testament to the fact that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Now she's back in London, ready to face realty and get back to work. Well, she's been working all week – but the River Thames is a far cry from the French Riviera on a day like today. The clouds are thick and an ominous shade of grey, but it does nothing to dampen her mood. She'd found her calling in PR and it suited her down to the ground. Mary was a people person, always had been, and she had been quite content to work for her father's company for a little while, but she'd soon found herself craving the need to be in charge. That was where Evelyn came in.

Mary had lived with Evelyn Napier during her time at university. He'd studied business and management ("_or something like that_", Mary thought) and knew the basics of starting up a company. In turn, he'd brought in an old friend from the year he'd spent at Yale, Patrick Gordon – a Canadian financier – to help them with the money side of things. In just two-and-a-half years, Crawley, Napier and Gordon had become one of the city's leading PR firms (although she strongly suspects her father's position – as well as her incredibly hard work - has something to do with their overnight success story – not that she's complaining, every little helps in this day and age). They specialised mainly in business and finance, but did have a small number of celebrities on their books – hence the annual trip to Cannes. Today's meeting, however, had been a little less glamorous. One of the magic circle law firms had been looking to them for representation. It seemed to have gone well, and they'd promised to get back to her once they'd discussed matters with other companies. It was definitely too early to buy a celebratory pair of Jimmy Choos, but a cinnamon latte would go down a treat right now.

**_-xxx-_**

He practically runs down the corridor as he sees the lift doors close – he's in no particular rush, but the damn things are so slow in this building that he doesn't really feel like waiting for the next one.

"Wait!" he yells, desperately trying not to drop the stack of folders that he's carrying.

The woman in the lift holds the doors for him, but she's too preoccupied reading through an email on her blackberry to pay him much attention.

"Thank you," Matthew says, he too being too busy rearranging his folders (god forbid he should manage to lose so much as a single page of a multi-million pound contract – it would spell the end of his career before it had really even begun).

"No problem," she mutters. He doesn't see her look up at him at last but, if he had, then he would have seen her jaw practically hit the floor. "Matthew?"

He looks up upon hearing his name. "My God... Mary? What a small world this is."

"And getting smaller," she says with a nervous laugh. "I mean... erm... how are you?" she's flustered. Mary **never** gets flustered – but there's just something about meeting one's ex-boyfriend in a lift that has that effect on a person. They'd had practically no contact with one another since they'd split up, deleting each other off Facebook and their numbers from each other's phones. She'd missed him terribly and he her, but their respective rapidly advancing careers had proved a welcome distraction.

"I'm... fine," he says. "More than fine, actually... and you?"

"Good. Very good."

Well... this isn't awkward.

They both internally sigh with relief as the lift reaches the ground floor after what seems like forever.

"Well, it was nice to see you Matthew," Mary says as she makes for the door.

"You too, Mary."

They're both heading outside. Each knows that the other is walking right next to them and yet neither quite knows what to say. It's Matthew who breaks the ice in the end though.

"Are you busy? Right now I mean."

Mary shakes her head. "No, why?"

"I... I don't suppose you'd like to go for coffee, would you?"

Mary smiles weakly, perhaps even slightly nervously. "Yes... yes I'd like that."

**_-xxx-_**

The awkwardness doesn't subside as they take their seats across the table from one another in the crowded Starbucks round the corner from his office. There's an atmosphere between them – charged, but not with the same sexual tension and desire that it had been all those years ago. No, this is something different entirely.

"Umm... skinny cinnamon latte, extra shot?" he asks, partly to quash the strained silence but mostly out of habit.

Mary nods, her stomach knotting as he repeats her usual coffee order back to her, something he'd learnt by heart in the earliest days of their friendship almost ten years ago. The fact that he remembers it even now stirs up a tempest of emotions deep within her very soul. Of all the lifts in all of London, he had to walk into hers.

"Thank you," she says quietly as he returns with her latte and a caramel macchiato for himself. "So," she adds. "Allen and Overy... you are doing very well for yourself."

He chuckles, almost blushes, at her compliment. "It just sort of... happened. Like so much has in my life since the last time I saw you, it... well... just **happened**."

She furrows her brow, confused somewhat by his words. She quickly brushes it off though. Just as it always was between them, she knows that he'll tell her if he wants her to know.

"What about you? What are you up to these days?" Matthew asks, stirring his coffee. "More to the point, what were you doing at A and O?"

"Oh, they're looking for someone new to do their PR. I was at a meeting to discuss what we could do for them."

"Who's **we**?"

"Crawley, Napier and Gordon."

"You work at CNG?"

Mary's lips curl up into a smile as she leans towards him slightly, immaculately manicured fingers curled around her mug, and she's got that twinkle in her eye that he knows she gets when she's immensely proud of herself.

"I **own** CNG."

Matthew sits back in his chair, looking at her with a grin to match her own. "Of **course **you do! God, I can't believe I didn't put two and two together on that one."

"What was I always telling you, Matthew, for someone so clever, you really are rather dense."

He laughs at that and, from that moment on, they fall effortlessly back into their old roles as old friends. Their breakup hadn't been bitter, not in the slightest, and it showed as they sat together drinking coffee and reminiscing over the good old days of university and what everyone they knew is up to nowadays. It's only as his phone rings and he sees who it is that the illusion is shattered.

"I'm really sorry," he apologises in that way that's so classically Matthew. "I have to take this."

"It's alright."

"Okay, I won't be long... hello? Are you alright... Is she alright? Oh, good... no, I'm just catching up with..." he looks over his shoulder at Mary and smiles – one which she returns – as he makes his way outside to get a better signal. "With an old friend."

'_Old friend_'... Mary muses upon this as she watches him through the window. He hasn't changed much, not in the slightest. He looks tired, exhausted even, and the cut of his suit is sharper and more expensive. He's still Matthew though. He is very much still her old friend, but at the same time he's so much more than that. He's an old love, her first love, and the only man she's ever really loved.

He own phone vibrating violently on the table drags her from her reverie. It's a text from Anna, her best friend, her confidant, and a woman who seems to have a sixth sense when it comes to knowing that Mary needs to see her. The events of this afternoon are something that she most definitely needs to share. As luck would have it, Anna is, as always, one step ahead.

"_HEARD YOU WERE BACK FROM FRANCE. COCKTAILS TONIGHT?_"

Mary smiles and immediately sends back her reply.

"_SOUNDS PERFECT. I HAVE SO MUCH TO TELL YOU... LIKE THE FACT I'M HAVING COFFEE WITH MATTHEW CRAWLEY RIGHT NOW._"

Anna's response follows within seconds.

"_MATTHEW CRAWLEY? AS IN YOUR EX-BOYFRIEND MATTHEW CRAWLEY?_"

Mary rolls her eyes and laughs.

"_REALLY, ANNA... HOW MANY MATTHEW CRAWLEYS DO WE KNOW? USUAL PLACE AT EIGHT. I'LL TELL YOU EVERYTHING THEN_."

She sends her reply just as Matthew returns.

"Sorry about that... So, where were we?"

"Matthew... is everything alright?" she asks, sensing that something seems to be troubling him.

He sighs wearily and closes his eyes. There's going to be no easy way of saying this, but he thinks he probably should and that she really should know.

"Mary... there... there's something I have to tell you..."

* * *

_**Next Chapter: **"Really, Sybil, I can't go... do you have any idea how awkward it would be?"_

_ Her little sister sighs, toying with the rim of her wineglass. "Yes, but he **invited **you... he clearly wants you to be there. Besides, it would be a good excuse to catch up with all your old friends."  
_

_"That's exactly what Matthew said."  
_

_"Then you know I'm right... go, have fun and, if needs must, get a little bit drunk to make the whole thing more entertaining."  
_

_Mary laughs. "You're a darling... I wish I had your outlook on life. One in which wine seems to solve everything..."_

_"That's because it usually does." _


	3. Girl Talk

_Once again, completely overwhelmed by the response to the last chapter. This is just a short one to briefly introduce two of the most important relationships in Mary's life - Anna and Sybil (we get to Edith later... I know, later AGAIN. All of this is just the tip of the iceberg). Anyway, please don't hate me for what I've done... I know it changes a little of Suppressio Veri, but I'll make the amendments later. It's just really important for how the story develops. Enjoy :)_

_**Author's Note: If you're reading this as the companion piece to Suppressio Veri, I've gone back and edited the final chapter to make this chapter make sense. I can't tell you what about... spoilers and that. **  
_

* * *

Anna was stunned as Mary told her what had transpired between her and Matthew earlier that afternoon.

"Wow," she said. "That's... not something I saw coming?"

"Mmm... you and me both," Mary replies, sipping her Cosmo.

"Did she say what she was like?"

Mary nods. "Apparently, she's beautiful, makes him laugh and completes him. She's perfect in every sense of the word."

Anna winces. "Ouch, that's not really something you tell your ex-girlfriend when you meet her for the first time in three years, is it?"

"No, it most certainly isn't. This **is** Matthew we're talking about though, the man never really was very good at tact." The two women laugh, but Anna clearly sees Mary's shoulders slump as though she's admitting defeat. "Oh, Anna," she sighs, burying her face in her hands. Her words from three years earlier come back to haunt her in that moment.

"_Of course it's the end. How could it not be?_"

Nothing has ever seemed more apt...

**_-xxx-_**

Over the next few weeks, they continue to rebuild their friendship. His startling revelation has done nothing to convince her that she was making a mistake. She's missed him, and it's nice to have him back in her life again. A and O isn't far from her own office and they find themselves meeting for lunch or coffee after work at least once a week. It's just like old times and, for now, everything is good...

That is until a pristine white envelope addressed in flowing gold script arrives in the post one morning and it changes everything.

She sits on the train to Edinburgh that afternoon on her way to visit Sybil, a second year med student, at University for the weekend. She's very much in need of her sister's company right now, and hopes that she can perhaps shed some light on her current predicament. She reads it over and over and over again, and each and every time she feels something completely different. With a groan of frustration, she turns up the volume on her iPod a little and curls up in her seat in a futile attempt at sleep.

Dutifully as ever, Sybil is standing there on the platform. Her wild dark curls are hidden under the hood of her navy blue university hoodie, shielding her face from the wind and rain.

"I can never come when it's sunny, can I?" Mary laughs as she embraces her sister.

"Days like that seem few and far between up here. How are you? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages... Skype doesn't count, especially not when you call me from Cannes. I can't tell you how jealous I was."

Mary hands Sybil a Waitrose carrier bag. "Then I hope to make it up to you this way. It's nothing much, I just thought we could catch up with a bottle of wine, some nachos, and a couple of crappy romantic comedies that don't really require much thought."

The youngest Crawley sister smiles and links her arm through Mary's. "Sounds perfect."

**_-xxx-_**

"Darling, you're snoring."

"Am not," Sybil protests. "I'm just full of a cold. Anyway, how can I be snoring if I'm awake?"

Mary laughs and refills their glasses. "This film is depressing," she says. They're watching Dear John for no other reason other than they both think Channing Tatum is a bit of alright.

"Mmm... but it must really suck to not see your ex for so long, only for them to turn round and tell you they're engaged."

"You have no idea," she replies quietly.

Sybil regards her sister, sensing immediately that there's something wrong. Out of the three of them, Sybil and Mary had always been the closest growing up and, as a result, they could read one another like their favourite books. "Mary, what's wrong?" her dark blue eyes are filled with sympathy as they search Mary's brown ones.

Mary sighs and, reaching for her handbag, she pulls out the envelope and hands it to her sister. "You know how I said I've been seeing Matthew again. Not like **that**, just as friends?"

"Go on."

"Well... He told me something, something that changes absolutely everything between us, and then that came in the post yesterday. I think it explains it all."

Sybil opens the envelope and reads over the contents several times as she lets the news sink in. She knows how much Mary had loved Matthew, and the sorry state she'd seen her sister in after they'd split up had almost broken Sybil's heart too. "Shit!" she finally says. "What does Edith think?"

Mary scoffs. "Do you really think I've told her? No, she'd be gloating for a good six months if I did. The only people I've told are you and Anna."

"You have to go."

"Really, Sybil, I can't go... do you have any idea how awkward it would be?"

Her little sister sighs, toying with the rim of her wineglass. "Yes, but he **invited **you... he clearly wants you to be there. Besides, it would be a good excuse to catch up with all your old friends."

"That's exactly what Matthew said."

"Then you know I'm right... go, have fun and, if needs must, get a little bit drunk to make the whole thing more entertaining."

Mary laughs. "You're a darling... I wish I had your outlook on life. One in which wine seems to solve everything..."

"That's because it usually does."

"I suppose I won't be entirely on my own. Like you said, everyone from Uni should be there and I haven't seen them all in a long time."

"Even the really cute Irish one?"

"Don't even think about it. He's far too old for you and, anyway, you have a boyfriend."

Sybil sets down her glass and sighs. "Actually, I have something to tell you too. Tom and I broke up."

"Oh, darling... I'm sorry. What happened?"

Sybil gives her sister a melancholy smile and sighs. "The long distance thing finally got a bit too much. We decided to go our separate ways." Tom Belasis had been Sybil's boyfriend since they were seventeen – he'd gone up to Cambridge whilst she had chosen Edinburgh. "It's alright; I think we're still friends, which is nice." She nibbles on a nacho, sucking the excess salsa from her fingers. "So, about your Irish friend..."

"No!"

**_-xxx-_**

The decision is made – she's going to go. Curled up on the sofa back in her luxurious London flat, she texts him her RSVP, formulating a plan in her head to turn up looking absolutely fabulous, put on her best happy face and just be there for her friend. As happy as she is for him, it's still hard to think of him going home to her every night, holding her in his arms and calling her "my darling" and all the other little terms of endearment she loved to hear on his lips.

Mary sighs wearily and, pinning the card to the fridge, she reads over the ornate calligraphy (not his, she notes) one more time. It's with a heavy heart that she resigns herself to the fact she's been beaten by this cruel hand that fate has dealt her. This is happening, it has happened, and there's nothing she can do to stop it.

_MATTHEW CRAWLEY AND LAVINIA SWIRE CORDIALLY INVITE YOU TO CELEBRATE _

_THE CHRISTENING OF THEIR DAUGHTER, LILY MAY CRAWLEY-SWIRE._

* * *

_**Next Chapter:**_She spies him across the garden standing beside the pretty strawberry blonde she knows to be Lavinia. She's met the woman briefly only once before. It was that night in the library. The night she and Matthew... She quickly brushes aside that memory, remembering how they'd flirted something terrible over creme eggs, and how he'd pushed her up against the bookshelves as they'd kissed for the very first time is like a knife to her gut and, just for one fleeting moment, the little green monster within her rears its ugly head and she can't help but think that the little bundle in his arms should be theirs..._  
_


	4. Old Friends and New Faces

**_Again, thank you so much to everyone who is following this story - I'm stunned by the response I've had to it. Anyway, before this chapter, I think I should point out how everyone is linked together from their University days. Here goes:_**

**_Matthew and Mary were forced to live together in first year - they hated one another but soon became friends. Matthew and Tom played rugby together and lived together in second and third year with William, Tom's first year housemate Anna also lived with William and Tom, and through the latter was introduced to Mary. Mary and Anna lived together with Evelyn, who Mary knew from school. Matthew and Mary got together in their final year._**

**_Complicated? Yeah, I know... but as the story goes on it should become clearer. Here's the next offering for you all. Enjoy :) x_**

* * *

It's a sunny afternoon in June as the families and friends of the Crawleys and the Swires come together at the latter's family home in a rural village somewhere in Kent. The church service had been beautiful and, from what she'd seen of Lily, she was everything Matthew had said she was – she had his bright blue eyes and was one of the happiest babies she's ever seen.

She can't help but smile as she catches sight of a friendly face across the crowded garden. Like so many of them, he hasn't changed at all.

"Tom!" she says, kissing his cheek. "It's so good to see you." Tom Branson was Matthew's best friend from their University days. They'd played rugby together and, as a history and politics student, he had shared several lectures and seminars with Mary. "How long are you over from Dublin?"

"Just until the end of the week. There's a Parliamentary debate on the Eurozone crisis they want me to cover, so it's all worked out quite nicely. How about you? Staying the weekend or back to London tonight?"

"No, straight back I'm afraid. I've got a meeting with the agent of some X Factor reject which I'm really not looking forward to. Forgive me for sounding like an utter snob, but that's just not the kind of thing we do. Businesses and banks, yes... failed talent show contestants, no."

Tom laughs. "Of course, I forgot you're some hotshot PR guru these days. Crawley, Napier and Gordon... I knew that was your brainchild the second I saw it."

"Matthew's doing very well for himself too. We all are by the looks of it, what list was it that you were on again? Most influential people in Irish media under thirty?"

"Something like that. Whatever it was, it was a bit of a mouthful," he laughs. "Anyway, slight change of subject... I'm surprised to see you here, I mean what with everything that happened between the two of you."

Mary sips on her champagne and stares at the luscious green lawn beneath her feet, the blades pleasantly tickling her toes. "Yes, well... he's my friend and I'm very happy for him. For them both... of course I was going to be here."

"Really?" Tom asks, not sounding entirely convinced.

"Of course," she smiles but, at the same time, giving him a look that screams "_just drop it_"

"Do you know her? Lavinia?"

Mary nods. "Yes, we met once before. An awful long time ago now though. It was before Matthew and I got together and I think they were quite good friends. She was in the year below us and he spoke of her often... she seems nice enough."

"I'm glad everything's alright between the two of you. Look, Matthew thinks he might be get out of work early one day next week and come out for a few drinks. You should come. I think William's coming too so bring Anna and, even though I think he's about as exciting as watching paint dry, Evelyn too if he's around. It would be nice to get everyone back together again."

"I'd like that. And Evelyn isn't dull... you're just completely different from one another. He's my oldest friend, be nice to him."

"I am nice! Anyway, I think there's someone else who's looking for your attention."

Mary looks up and sees Matthew's mother smiling at her from by the rose bush. She smiles back and raises her glass to her – she's always liked Isobel (even after the Midsommer Murders incident) and thinks that a catch-up is long overdue.

"I'll get Matthew to text you about next week. See you later, yeah?"

The old friends embrace before Tom takes his leave, allowing Mary some time with the woman who had been thought by many to one day become her mother-in-law.

"It's so good to see you," Mary says as Isobel takes hold of her hand in hers. She knows it's terribly rude of her, but the second she catches sight of Matthew, his mother's words cease to sink in. She spies him across the garden standing beside the pretty strawberry blonde she knows to be Lavinia. She's met the woman briefly only once before. It was that night in the library. The night she and Matthew... She quickly brushes aside that memory, remembering how they'd flirted something terrible over creme eggs, and how he'd pushed her up against the bookshelves as they'd kissed for the very first time is like a knife to her gut and, just for one fleeting moment, the little green monster within her rears its ugly head and she can't help but think that the little bundle in his arms should be theirs.

He catches her eye and she smiles awkwardly. She almost thinks he's pretending not to notice when he turns away and whispers something into Lavinia's ear, but when they start walking towards her, she feels her pulse quicken and her palms dampen with sweat.

"Mary, have you met Lavinia?" Isobel asks, and Mary inwardly screams as it seems to be the only question anyone's asked her all day.

"Hello, Lavinia, I'm Mary Crawley... we met a long time ago."

"A very long time ago," Lavinia smiles. "I'm surprised you remember me. Matthew told me so much about you."

"Likewise," Mary smiles. "All very nice things I can assure you. Although I'm not so sure the same can be said for what he's told you about me," she laughs.

Matthew smiles and tears his attention away from Lily – who has her tiny hand wrapped firmly around his finger – for a second to look at her properly. "What else would she hear from me?"

Lavinia's eyes flicker between Mary and Matthew and, sensing the unspoken tension between them, she takes Lily from Matthew's arms. "She's getting restless," she says. "I'll take her inside for a bit."

"I'll come with you," Isobel adds, also picking up on the atmosphere between her son and his ex-girlfriend.

"About what you just said, that they **were** nice things," Mary says when they're alone at last. "I couldn't have known, could I? I mean, there was many a time when I wasn't very nice to you."

They both laugh and Matthew rests a hand on Mary's arm. "Perhaps, but it's all in the past now. I've missed having you as my friend."

"Same," she replies. "And I'm so glad to see you so happy. You were right... Lily's an absolute darling."

He smiles at the mention of his daughter – it seems the child is the absolute love of his life. "And are you? Happy I mean?"

She nods in affirmation. "Yes... yes I am. I was speaking to Tom earlier; it's nice to see him again. He mentioned something about drinks in the city next week. Are you coming?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Are you sure? I mean, what with work being rather busy right now and a baby to look after I didn't know if you'd have the time."

"Why?" he smirks. "Don't you want me?"

"Of course I want you," she smiles back. "Very much."

Oh if only he knew...

**_-xxx-_**

It's not until she's on the train back to London that evening that Mary really sits and thinks about the situation she's in. Her feelings for Matthew, or anyone else for that matter, have never been this complicated before. She still loves him; she's almost convinced that she does. She was telling the truth though, when she said she was happy for him, because when you love someone surely that's all you could ever want for them?

She knows she can't go on like this if they are to be friends. Starting tomorrow, she thinks, she's going to become a new woman. But first, there's a large bottle of rosé in the fridge with her name on it, and it's time to let loose her inner Bridget Jones...

* * *

_**Next Chapter:** __The Abbey at Downton is one of the most exclusive country house hotels in the country and, for this weekend, is the host of one of the biggest social gatherings of the year. Sometimes a little home comfort is just what the doctor ordered...__  
_


	5. Just Friends?

**_Okay, so this could be the last chapter for a while - I'm working a few days this week and also going back to Wales to start moving out of my house. I'll try my best though! Again, thank you to all those who have reviewed and stuff - you're all darlings and I love you. Oh and if you have Tumblr and don't already - follow me on the same name as I have on here. _**

**_Here's the next chapter - in which there is much drinking and a catastrophic mistake..._**

**_Author's Note: The dress Mary wears really exists - it's the Heidi dress by Reiss in oyster (check it out on their website!)_**

* * *

Mary knows something is amiss when she's summoned to lunch with her father one afternoon in the city. Ever since she was about sixteen, she's known that whenever he requests to see her alone, she's either in trouble or he wants something. Thankfully, this time, it's the latter.

"Mary, it's your mother's fiftieth birthday party. The least you can do is turn up," he says. As one of the most influential businessmen in the world, Robert Crawley has no trouble in negotiating with commercial giants – his own daughters on the other hand are a completely different kettle of fish. He doesn't know when they all became so fiercely headstrong and independent in their own unique ways, but sometimes it makes them damn hard to reason with.

"Of course I'll be there... I think that if Edith can make it over from France, then London shouldn't be a problem."

"Good, I'm glad of it. How is your sister, I haven't spoken to her recently."

"She's fine," Mary replies as she fills up their water glasses. "She was gushing over her latest protégé in the last email she sent me... some Parisian painter who's set to be the next big thing."

"Everyone Edith discovers is the next big thing," Robert laughs. Having been the most creative of the three, Edith's love for art had taken her over to Paris. With a keen eye for future classics and old treasures, she'd made her living buying and selling pieces in the few small galleries she owns in the French capital. "It was nice of her to find time to invite Sybil over to stay with her."

"Yes, she deserves a break. She's worked so hard this year."

"You all have. I'm very proud of the three of you."

Mary smiles at her father's compliment. It's rare that Robert declares his affection for his three girls and so, when he does, it's all that bit more meaningful.

"And what about you? Sybil tells me you've been in touch with Matthew again."

"Yes, I have. We met up again a few months ago... quite by accident, actually."

"And how is he?"

"He's... fine," she says - this is the last conversation she wants to be having with her father of all people. "Actually, I was at his daughter's christening the other day."

"Beg your pardon?" Robert asks, clearly thinking he's misheard. "Matthew has a **daughter**?"

"Yes... and a rather lovely girlfriend too."

"And... you're alright with this?"

Mary rolls her eyes in annoyance at being asked the same question yet again. "What must I do to prove to people that he's in love with Lavinia? Tear open his chest and show you his name carved upon her heart?"

"Perhaps nothing quite so drastic, my dear girl," her father half laughs. "But... what about you? Do **you** still love him?"

The fact that Mary says nothing and merely goes back to eating her pasta is all Robert needs to confirm his suspicions.

**_-xxx-_**

Mary contemplates her reflection in the mirror as she applies her lipstick – the finishing touch to the evening's attire. She has no idea why she feels so nervous about tonight, it's just a group of old university friends going out for drinks after all. Standing up, she smoothes out her dress and remembers the last time she wore something similar – it had been the night of the Law Society Ball in their final year...

**_-xxx-_**

_She shivers in the chilly February wind, pulling her coat tighter around with one hand, clutching a bottle of rosé in the other, and cursing as she feels the first drops of rain. Where the hell is he? Where the hell are any of them? _

_ "Bloody men," she mutters, just as the door opens. She's greeted by a rather scruffy looking, incredibly stressed out Tom. _

_ "He's not ready," Tom says between mouthfuls of toast, the only real food he seems to have time to make right now. "But he says he won't be long."_

_ "What are you?" Mary smirks as she steps into the house. "His butler?"_

_ "And his chauffeur, and his PA, and, even on occasion, his personal chef," he replies as they move into the kitchen, flinging his copy of John Stuart Mill's 'the Subjection of Women' onto the worktop. "Anyway, you're taking Crawley out tonight, William's gone up to Sheffield to see Daisy, which leaves me all alone, relieved of my duties, with a couple of beers in the fridge and the peace and quiet I need to get through this damn dissertation. Here..." he hands her two wineglasses – not that she asked for them. Mary likes coming here – they may live in a pigsty of a bachelor pad (organised chaos, Matthew calls it), but they look after her when she comes round. The three stooges, as she and her own housemates Anna and Evelyn call them, are some of the loveliest men she's ever met._

_ "Thank you, is he upstairs?"_

_ "Yeah, go on up. And don't be too loud when you come in," he adds with a wink. "Some of us have got work to do."_

_ "Oh, for God's sake," Mary sighs. "We are **not** together!"_

_ "Yeah... 'course you're not."_

_The narrow staircase is hard to negotiate in heels, but it's an art Mary's perfected in the eighteen months since Matthew moved into the house at the beginning of their second year. _

_ "Mary?" he shouts from the bathroom. "Is that you?" _

_ "I'm in your room," she answers, setting the bottle and glasses down on his desk. The bedroom is surprisingly tidy for once – there are usually random pieces of paper and stacks of books littering the floor, items of unwashed kit hidden out of sight but leaving that stench of sweat and damp which he tries to mask with Febreeze (their washing machine is broken – again), and the customary flask of coffee accompanied by half a packet of biscuits. Tonight, all that has gone, save for one solitary textbook lying open on the immaculately made bed (he's changed the sheets since she was last here on Monday), a towel draped over the radiator, and a shirt and dinner jacket hanging on the wardrobe door. She can't help but wonder if he's seeing someone for the room to be this tidy._

_ He comes almost running into the room, half dressed, and looking incredibly flustered. "I am **so **sorry... I'm... almost ready. I promise."_

_ Mary rolls her eyes and sits down gracefully on the bed, slipping off her shoes and coat. "You are nowhere **near **ready. You still have shaving foam behind your ear, your hair's a mess, and, in case you haven't noticed, you aren't wearing a shirt." **She'd** noticed his distinct lack of clothing – he'd lost weight since she'd first met him. Gone was the puppy fat of his boyhood, leaving behind a toned – although not overly muscular – rather handsome young man. Playing rugby had worked wonders for him, even if he did look like he'd been crawling through the trenches like some kind of fallen soldier after most matches – the remnants of a black eye still linger upon his skin even now._

_ "How long before we have to leave?"_

_ "We've got about half an hour. Drink?"_

_ "Please," he nods, wiping the shaving foam off with a towel and fixing his hair in the mirror. _

_ Mary pours two glasses of wine and watches him, absolutely fascinated – various hair and skin care products sit on top of the chest of drawers, and several glass bottles of aftershave glitter in the evening sunlight that creeps in through the gap in the curtains. _

_ "Ever the meterosexual," she quips, being careful not to smudge her lipstick as she takes a sip of wine. _

_ Matthew looks over his shoulder and quirks an eyebrow at her. "I resent that."_

_ "You shouldn't. It's sexy."_

_ He can't help but laugh. "Really?"_

_ Mary nods. "You take care of yourself. That's good in a man... Just as long as you stay on the right side of vanity, that is."_

_ "Well that's... nice to know," Matthew replies, suddenly feeling rather flustered. He slips on his shirt, reaching for the glass of wine and taking a long, slow swig before starting on the buttons. _

_ "Thank you, for coming with me tonight. You really didn't have to."_

_ "Well, you asked me and it's a damn sight better than sitting in all night working. I suppose it will all be lawyers and law talk though?"_

_ Matthew nods. "God, I can never do these things!" _

_ "Here, let me," Mary says, getting to her feet and offering to help him with the bowtie he's been struggling with. "Before you ask, when I was little, I used to be absolutely fascinated as I watched Papa do up his bowtie in the mirror in the hallway whenever he and Mama went out to corporate dinner parties. He even started letting me do them... but I strongly suspect he re-tied them the second I was out of the room."_

_ Matthew laughs at the image. "It still amuses me that you call your parents Mama and Papa. You sound like you fell out of the pages of an Austen novel. Oh and I don't think it will be **all** law talk, we do take time off sometimes," he laughs. "But I can't promise anything."_

_ "So I'm stuck with your company all night then?"_

_ "Afraid so... Who knows, maybe I'll shine by comparison."_

_ "Maybe you will." _

**_-xxx-_**

She looks like a silver screen icon from a bygone era in a figure hugging, knee length dress with nude Jimmy Choos accentuating her impossibly long legs. Her hair is pulled up into an elegant yet messy knot at the nape of her neck – the shortest layers falling in gentle waves around her face – showing of the asymmetric neckline of her dress. She remembers that night, seeing Matthew dressed to the nines and resembling a young James Bond in his tux and wondering if she'd been a little underdressed for the occasion. She'd stood in front of the mirror at the end of the hallway outside his bedroom, very much in the same manner as she is doing now, and wondering if it would be the night that one of them finally cracked and admitted how they really felt about on another. Tonight though, there is no such thing to worry about. She has his friendship back, he has a girlfriend and a child – it's selfish for her to want anything more than that from him...

...Isn't it?

**_-xxx-_**

Their raucous laughter rings out across the bar from the table by the window of the fancy cocktail bar in London's West End. It feels just like old times again as the five of them (Evelyn's out in Turkey on business) find themselves together again. Their conversations, as ever, range from the utterly absurd – like what the Northerners and Southerners (and the Irish) call various types of bread in their respective parts of the country – to the much more philosophical. The current topic falls into the latter category, with Matthew and Tom hotly debating government cuts to legal aid.

"Oh pipe down, Westlife!" a somewhat worse for wear Mary giggles, flinging a screwed up paper napkin across the table at Tom. "And, you," she says, pointing a finger at Matthew who's sitting on her right. "Can shut up as well... let's talk about something fun."

"Like what?" he asks. "The fact that your sister wants to climb Tom like a tree."

Tom chokes on his pint. "Oh god... which one?"

"The youngest... Sybil."

He contemplates this for a moment before a roguish grin graces his face. "Grand," he says.

Anna winces and William shakes his head. "Wrong answer, mate," he says.

"What? All I said was grand... that doesn't mean anything."

"Yes, but we know what you're thinking!" Anna replies with a laugh.

Mary leans over the table slightly, staring at him seriously. "If you go anywhere near my little sister, I will cut off your testicles with a rusty spoon, maybe even let my father's beloved Labrador chew them off, I haven't quite decided yet, and then I will present them to my grandmother who can wear them as earrings."

"I'd do as she says," Matthew says. "She can be a bit of a pitbull when she wants to be!"

Mary scowls at him. "Who's **she**? The cat's mother?"

"I'd say more Yorkshire Terrier," Tom laughs. "All yappy and annoying."

"You're offensive!" Anna laughs. "When are you going back to Ireland again?"

"Oh? Trying to get rid of me, are you? No, I'm joking... tomorrow morning, which means I shall have to love you and leave you."

They say their goodbyes as soon as they've all finished off their drinks. Tom, Anna and William end up sharing a cab, leaving Matthew and Mary alone at to wait for another.

"Come on," he says after they've been waiting for what seems like an eternity. "I'll walk you back. It's not far and, push come to shove, we can get the Tube." Mary agrees, smiling at him as he gallantly offers her his jacket to keep warm in the cool summer breeze as, arm-in-arm, they make their way through the streets of London.

"You know, we couldn't do this the last time we were friends," he says, breaking the comfortable silence.

Mary looks up at him quizzically – even in her highest heels he's still a good inch or two taller than her. "Why?"

"Because you were famous back then."

"Err, excuse me, Mr Crawley, I'll have you know that I am **still** famous... apparently. No, I just found a way to escape from it all... the three of us did. For a while, I used it as an advantage when I was starting up the company. It comes in handy every now and again. As for my sisters, well Edith avoided press attention like the plague, hence the move to Paris, and Sybil just realised the hypocrisy of it all."

"Sounds like Sybil," he laughs. "I liked her... did you really mean what you said to Tom?"

"Well, yes and no... I'm very protective over her, I can't help it. Let's face it though; it's hardly likely to happen. He lives in Ireland, she in Scotland. What are the chances of them ever actually meeting properly?"

"Stranger things have happened," Matthew replies. Neither of them really notices that they've stopped, and it's only as Mary looks straight into those beautiful blue eyes of his which shimmer in the glow of the streetlights that she realises that the shiver that runs down her spine isn't due to the cold. He really is devastatingly handsome and, if things were different, she knows they'd probably be kissing right about now, and that when they finally reached her flat, he wouldn't leave and they'd fall into bed together like they used to in the old days after a night out. But, alas, it is not to be – everything is different now, everything has changed.

She wants to say something in response to that but, such is the way of the Great British summer, they're caught off guard as the heavens open and the rain begins to pour, washing away all thoughts of what she had wanted to say to him and, instead, they are replaced with a desperate need to seek shelter.

"Come on," Matthew says as he grabs her hand, their fingers instinctively twining together.

"Matthew, wait!" she yells as they start to run. "I can't run in these shoes!" Not even caring about the inevitable damage to her feet, she slips them off and they make a dash for the entrance of a nearby Underground station. Taking in each other's utterly bedraggled state, they begin to laugh and, suddenly, they're twenty-one years old again and it's that blissful summer they spent together when everything was new and exciting.

His back is flat against the wall, his hands instinctively wrapping around her waist under the borrowed jacket and pulling her close to him in an attempt to keep her warm. She's not entirely sure how, but her shoes have managed to find their way back onto her feet, something she only notices when she realises she's practically at eye-level with him. Almost subconsciously, she reaches up and pushes a soggy strand of hair out of his eyes, her freezing cold fingers tracing down his cheek and ghosting over his lips.

He'll never be entirely sure why he did it, but he leans down and kisses her. She seems hesitant at first but, soon enough, she's responding with an equal degree of ardour – her arms come up around his neck and it's a glorious clash of teeth and tongues that signals the release of months of pent up frustration, it's a wordless apology for all the things that were said and done in what now seems like another life and a bittersweet reminder of everything they once were to each other. It isn't long though before they realise just what a catastrophic mistake they're both making.

"I... I'm sorry," Mary says as she pulls away from him. "I... I can't do this."

Matthew sighs, his heart suddenly feeling incredibly heavy with guilt and betrayal. "Oh God, Mary I am **so** sorry..."

"It's alright. Well, no, it's not alright but..." she shrugs of his jacket and, having removed her purse from the inside pocket, flings it at him a little more aggressively than intended. "I'm going home, you should probably do the same."

He nods. "Yes, well... alright. Probably for the best."

She mouths yet another apology as she disappears down into the bowels of the station, leaving Matthew to make the long walk home with nothing but a guilty conscience for company.

**_-xxx-_**

It's two in the morning when Mary climbs into the bath. The scalding hot water not only warms her up, but seems to absolve her of her sins. She'd kissed Matthew knowing full well that he has a girlfriend and that they have a child together. She rarely cries but this time she can't help it – her past life is swallowing her up and she just needs to get away from it all. Perhaps going up to Yorkshire a few days earlier than planned will do her the world of good. The Abbey at Downton is one of the most exclusive country house hotels in the country and, for this weekend, is the host of one of the biggest social gatherings of the year. Sometimes a little home comfort is just what the doctor ordered...

* * *

_**Next Chapter:** __With his dark hair and olive toned complexion, he's the polar opposite of Matthew. He's handsome and charming enough, and perhaps he's exactly the kind of distraction she needs right now...__  
_


	6. Turkish Delight

**_Guys! I am SO sorry for the delay in posting this chapter - last week was so crazy that I didn't really have much time to write. This chapter is so haphazard, it's unbelievable but, then again, I think it's a perfect reflection of both my life and Mary's right now. Thank you all so much for your wonderful responses to this story, as ever. Oh, just so you know, the reference to Evelyn and his magic tricks is inspired by Gavin and Stacey (in which Brendan Patricks shows up as a magician) - it's wonderful and, if you haven't seen it, GO WATCH IT! Alright, enough of that. Here goes..._**

**_In which there is a handsome stranger, a party, more equestrian related innuendo than you can shake a stick at, a potential romance on the cards for Edith, and a bit of an afterparty in the library (if you know what I mean... *wink wink nudge nudge*)_**

* * *

The borrowed Range Rover Sport pulls up in the yard of the stables just a few miles away from the Abbey. The country air is so refreshing after months in London, and Mary thinks it's about time she paid a very dear friend a visit.

"Hello old boy," she says as her beloved black stallion, Diamond, affectionately nuzzles at her shoulder. He was a twenty-first birthday present from her parents and, even though she was rarely in Yorkshire these days, he's her absolute pride and joy and she loves him dearly. From a very early age, Mary had learnt that there is no better way to rid the weight of the world from your shoulders than a ride through the countryside. It's as she's walking her own horse across the yard and towards the field that something, or rather **someone**, catches her eye.

"Hello," he says as he tacks up a beautiful grey mare.

"Hello," Mary replies with a smile. "I haven't seen you around here before."

"Oh, no... I'm a guest up at the Abbey. A friend of mine invited me to a party there this weekend but he can't join me here until the Friday."

She notices that his English is heavily accented but she can't place it – from his appearance, she's guessing somewhere around the Mediterranean. "Then it seems you and I will perhaps be seeing more of each other over the next few days then."

"You're staying there too?"

Mary nods in affirmation – she doesn't really feel like telling him her family owns the place. "I come up here often. It's nice to get away from the city sometimes."

"Well then, perhaps you could show me around. I wouldn't like to get lost," he says flirtatiously. "I'm sure you must be keeping some secrets from the tourists."

"One or two."

"Then will you join me?"

"Of course I will. I'd be glad of the company." That's a lie – she'd come up here to have some time alone but, then again, it's not every day you meet an Adonis in a car park in the middle of rural Yorkshire. "But you'll have to keep up, I'm a fast rider."

"I'm sure you are."

Oh this is going to be an interesting afternoon.

**_-xxx-_**

The two horses thunder across the rolling green fields, their hooves kicking up the mud and splattering their rider's boots. They slow down every now and then so as they can talk, both amazed at just how easily the conversation flows between them. Mary somehow feels glad of her handsome companion's company, even if she doesn't know his name – to be honest, the mystery makes it all that bit more thrilling. They pull up the horses as they come to a small bridge over a brook.

"You ride well," he says, patting his mare's neck.

"Well, I've had an awful lot of practise over the years. You don't exactly seem like a novice yourself."

He laughs and flashes her a dazzling smile. She hasn't felt lust like this in such a long time - there's an undeniable spark between them and she suddenly starts to think that it's not the fences she wants to be jumping.

"What can I say, I started young. So... do you like to stick to the trail when you ride?"

"Oh no, I find it much more fun to go off the beaten track. It's unpredictable and exciting."

She doesn't give him time to respond as she urges Diamond forward, taking the jump over the brook with ease. She looks over at him with a satisfied smile, almost teasing him and goading him into attempting it himself. He's over it and by her side again in seconds, deciding that this woman is most definitely more than a match for him in every way imaginable.

**_-xxx-_**

They return to the stables around an hour later but it's by no means the end of their flirting. Their hands gently brush against each other's as they store away their saddles and it's almost too much to bear as he removes his jacket and jumper, revealing the band of a pair of black Calvins as his t-shirt rides up a little. He's taunting her, she knows he is but, for now, she refuses to stoop to his level...

...That is, of course, until he kisses her.

He catches her completely by surprise as, with his hands cupping her mud splattered face, he pushes her back against the wall. She responds by raking her fingers through his hair – it's so similar to the last time she kissed a man (which, despite being less than a week ago, almost seems like a lifetime), but at the same time so new and exciting.

"Let me see you tonight," he whispers, peppering feather-light kisses to her neck.

Mary pushes him away slightly, her dark eyes meeting his. "I'm sorry, I can't... I..." she doesn't know why she's turning him down, with his dark hair and olive toned complexion, he's the polar opposite of Matthew. He's handsome and charming enough, and perhaps he's exactly the kind of distraction she needs right now. "Saturday, at my... at the party?"

"Saturday it is. But, if we're going to meet again, then I'll need your name."

She looks up at him, smiling flirtatiously before leaning in to kiss him again. "I'll give it to you on Saturday."

And, with that, she leaves him.

**_-xxx-_**

The very top floor of the Abbey is reserved for the family's private suites – eight in total with a spacious kitchen-come-living area at the end of the corridor. Having spent much of her childhood here, it's the one place outside of London that Mary truly feels at home. Even with the comings and goings of various guests downstairs, she adores the peace and tranquillity being here brings.

She takes her time in the shower, letting the water soothe her aching muscles after yet another day's hard ride. This time, however, she hadn't come across her handsome stranger and, admittedly, she'd been disappointed at first, but the time alone had finally given her time to think. She had no idea what she was going to do about Matthew – the advantage of running one's own company is that you can work away from the office as much as you like. The thing is though, even if she were to extend her stay in Yorkshire, she knows she can't avoid him forever. She wonders if they'll ever be able to put this behind them at all. It had been easy enough for them to rebuild their friendship after their failed romance, but this was different now – he'd been unfaithful and she'd done nothing to discourage it. It wasn't just about **them **anymore, there are other people involved and so the whole thing just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

She pushes her worries to one side as she steps out of the shower, enveloping herself in a huge fluffy white towel. Tonight is the night of her mother's party – it's Saturday, and that means she gets to meet her mystery man again. She smiles to herself as she sees her dress hanging on the wardrobe door –it had been a bit of a splurge, but she doesn't think she's ever loved a piece of clothing more. The floor length red gown with a deep plunging neckline and crossover back is the epitome of glamour and she'd known that she just had to have it the second she'd seen it. It sums up her playful, seductive mood perfectly – she and Matthew had come together of their own accord, it was a friendship that had blossomed into something much more and there hadn't been much of an opportunity for her to experience that thrill of the chase that she adores so much. Perhaps a good old fashioned fling is exactly what she needs right now more than anything.

There's a knock on the door some time later, quickly followed by Sybil slipping into her room.

"Only me," she says. "Can I borrow your silver cuff? I can't find mine."

Mary nods. "In your room, I'm not surprised. I'm amazed you can even find the bed sometimes."

"Very funny," Sybil replies. "It's actually quite clean at the moment." Her little sister looks stunning in a white one shouldered Grecian cut gown. Her hair was messily pulled back and her make-up smoky, giving the ensemble a hint of her signature rockstar style.

"You look lovely darling," Mary says, handing her the bracelet.

"Thanks. Courtesy of papa's credit card... I would have been happy to buy something from Topshop or somewhere but he insisted he wanted this doing properly and... oh my god, is that what I think it is?" she asks, catching sight of Mary's own dress. "I saw this on Net-a-Porter and loved it. I thought of you, actually. Bloody hell though, isn't it nearly two-thousand-pounds?"

Her sister's tendency to talk at breakneck speed never ceases to amuse her. It's something she's always done ever since they were little. "Not quite," she smiles. "One-thousand-six-hundred."

"And worth every penny."

"Absolutely." The two sister's share a laugh as Edith also appears in the room, wearing a knee length green cocktail dress.

"And what have you come to borrow?" Mary asks as she slips in her earrings – nothing overly spectacular, just her lucky white gold four-leaf clovers.

Edith shakes her head. "Nothing. Am I not allowed to come and chat to my sisters without wanting anything?"

"When it comes to you," Mary smirks. "No. You usually always want something in the end."

"Nothing ever changes with you two, does it?" Sybil laughs, stealing Mary's mirror for a moment to fix her hair.

"So who exactly is it that your friend Evelyn is bringing tonight?" Edith asks. "I don't recognise the name... in fact, I don't even think I can pronounce it."

Mary shrugs. "I don't know... I haven't spoken to him much recently. He's been in Turkey and then Paris or Berlin, I can't remember which."

"Is he still with that Georgiana girl?"

"No, and he hasn't been for a while now. Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

Mary snaps her head round to look at her sister, eyes wide as she realises what's going on. "You fancy Evelyn, don't you?"

"No," Edith replies, blushing a spectacular shade of scarlet to rival Mary's dress.

Sybil laughs. "You so do... ten quid says they're together by Christmas."

"You're on," Mary replies, taking her little sister's bet. "Personally, I think it will be sooner."

"I am still here you know!"

"Edith and Evelyn sitting in a tree, K, I, S, S, I, N... OW!" Sybil teases, howling with pain as Edith flings a cushion at her back.

"You two tease me something terrible," the middle sister says, desperately trying hard not to laugh.

"Old habits die hard darling."

**_-xxx-_**

Mary smiles as she catches sight of Evelyn across the crowded room. She kisses her old friend on the cheek as he hands her another glass of champagne. The pair go way back – their parents were old friends and they'd been at school together before eventually, and completely by chance, deciding to attend the same University.

"How was Turkey?"

"Wonderful. I met a few potential investors while I was out there but this isn't the time for business. Unless, of course, you count my guest for tonight."

"Yes, I was wondering about that. Who is he?"

"Son of the Turkish finance minister. I'm supposed to be keeping him sweet for the next few days. I had to go to Berlin and left him here alone though, I feel bad but I'm sure he was alright."

"Where is he?" Mary asks.

Evelyn rolls his eyes. "Fussing... he's a bit of a... what's the word I'm looking for? Dandy."

Mary can't help but laugh. "Well, I can see him now. A funny little foreigner with a wide, toothy grin and reeking of cheap aftershave."

"Oh I wouldn't go that far... there he is now," he says, pointing to an impeccably dressed man descending the stairs from the guest bedrooms. Mary's jaw drops, wiping the somewhat snobbish smile clean off her face. Evelyn waves him over and she suddenly feels incredibly flustered. Drawing herself up to her full height (and sticking out her chest just a tiny bit), Mary flashes him her most dazzling smile.

"Miss Mary Crawley, I presume," he says, kissing the back of her hand.

"You presume right."

"I've heard a lot about you from Mr Napier here. I'm Kemal... Kemal Pamuk."

Sensing the spark between them, Evelyn takes it as his cue to leave and vanishes in search of his parents.

"So," Mary smiles. "We do indeed meet again."

**_-xxx-_**

Edith spies Evelyn casually leaning against the wall at the back of the room, watching his friend and companion intently.

"Penny for your thoughts," she says.

"Look at them and tell me what you see."

"I see Mary being Mary, flirting outrageously. She's got the poor man eating out of the palm of her hand and she loves it."

Evelyn looks at her, sensing her irritation. "You don't perhaps think it's the other way around, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"She doesn't know what she's getting herself into. Kemal is trouble, I know he is. I care about her and I don't want to see her get hurt."

"It's just flirting... it's what she does."

"Perhaps... but you know Mary as well as I do and, when she looks at a man like that, it's never **just** flirting."

Edith sighs. "Mary's a grown woman. She's made mistakes in the past and, believe me, there will be plenty more of them. Leave her to it, I'm sure she'll be fine."

Evelyn can't help but laugh. "Never did I think I'd see the day when I'd hear you defending her."

"I'm not defending her, I'm merely stating fact."

They both laugh as Evelyn reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a deck of cards. "Here, let me show you something."

"Magic tricks?"

"No party is complete without a magician. I had a rather eccentric Welshman ask me if I could saw him in half earlier. Now, pick a card," he says with a smile, fanning them out. They've both had a bit too much to drink and finding this whole situation much more amusing than it actually is. "Look at it and then put it back."

Edith's not entirely sure, but she thinks he might be flirting with her. This sort of thing doesn't happen very much and while she has been known to become somewhat enamoured with Parisian bohemian types, she can't actually remember the last time she ever genuinely liked a man in the way she feels herself liking this one standing in front of her. She watches, entranced as he expertly shuffles the deck.

"Is this your card?" he asks, holding up the Queen of Hearts.

"How do you do that?"

"That would be telling." He flips the card in his fingers and it vanishes before her eyes, another replacing it – this one is much smaller and plain white. "Here, you can keep this one," Evelyn says, pressing it into Edith's hand. With a smile he leaves her alone to examine what he's just given her. She can't help but laugh out when she sees that it's his business card and wonders if she'll perhaps be telling Mary to call in her debt from Sybil sometime in the near future.

**_-xxx-_**

It's around four in the morning when the last of the guests finally leaves and a now barefoot Mary (having discarded her Manolos a long time ago) trudges into the hotel's Library Bar.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says, seeing that she's interrupted someone's moment of solitude. "I just wanted to see if I left my camera in here."

Smiling, Kemal Pamuk pulls himself up out of his chair and downs the last of his Scotch. "No need to worry, I was just going to bed... and I was hoping you would join me there."

Mary laughs. "And who said romance is dead?"

"I can do romance, if that's what you'd like," he says, edging closer towards her.

She feels her pulse starting to race and the familiar tingling of butterflies in her stomach. He's looking at her with that same smouldering glare that he had done in the stables the other day and it does quite literally make her feel weak at the knees.

"I'm not entirely sure what I'd like, if I'm honest."

"Well then... what do you say we, what was the phrase you used the other day? Go off the beaten track..."

"Something exciting and unpredictable."

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

Mary smiles at him seductively and, grabbing his tie, pulls his body against hers as her back hits the bookshelves. Her arms come up around his neck, fingers burying themselves in his thick dark hair, the pair of them moaning softly as their tongues move across one another in a passionate kiss. She whimpers slightly at the loss of contact when his lips break with hers, only for them to begin tracing a path down her neck, right across her collarbone and, finally, down into the deep plunging neckline of her dress as he lifts her up off the ground, pushing up her dress slightly so as she can wrap her legs around his waist.

"Actually," she manages to say. "I think I know what I want to do."

"And what's that?" he whispers looking straight into her desire darkened eyes.

"I want to go riding," she says, loosening his tie and beginning work on the buttons of his shirt. "I'm in the mood for a long, hard, invigorating ride. Right here. Right now." A wave of satisfaction washes over her as Kemal visibly swallows – he's putty in her hands right now.

He smiles and kisses her nose. "As my lady wishes," he says as his lips come crashing down on hers again and he carries her over to the big leather armchair he had recently vacated. Straddling his thighs (with great difficulty in this dress – not to worry though, she's almost certain that this is an obstacle which is about to be removed), she breaks their kiss and gently presses her finger to his lips. "I... Just so you know... I never ride bareback."

"Nor do I," he smiles, kissing her fingertip. "I **always** saddle up."

Mary can't help but laugh – their whole conversation is like something out of a poorly written, cliché crammed erotic novel. She nods in consent as his hands begin to move from her waist – one of them reaches for the zip of her dress, the other so very tantalisingly slowly creeping underneath it, grazing against her thigh, further and further until...

"Oh God..."

**_-xxx-_**

She can't help but giggle as Kemal pulls her in for another kiss. Their relationship still doesn't amount to anything in particular – they enjoy one another's company when he's in the country and, let's be honest, the sex is **great**. He's exactly what she's needed these past couple of months to take her mind off everything. But that's all it really is – sex. Just pure, no strings attached, utterly fantastic shagging...

...and that suits her just fine.

The phone on the kitchen worktop starts to ring – there are very few people who ring her on her landline number and so she knows it's most probably her mother.

"Are you going to get that?"

"No, it will go through to voicemail. Besides, if it's urgent, they'll ring my mobile."

Sure enough, her answering machine picks it up. "_Mary? Mary it's me, Matthew. Can you call me as soon as you get this... there... there's something I really need to talk to you about_," his voice sounds hoarse and she can tell that something's drastically wrong – her mind immediately races to baby Lily and she knows she has to speak to him now.

"Matthew? Hello, I'm here," she says, picking up the phone. She clocks Kemal looking at her, puzzled by her urgency. "Is everything okay?"

"_Oh, thank God you're there_," he says. "_I just needed to speak to someone... well, not just someone... you. She's gone, Mary... she took Lily and she's gone_."

"Who's gone, darling?" she thinks she knows the answer, but she just needs to hear him say it.

"_Lavinia's left me._"

* * *

_**Next Chapter:** __Mary toys with the piece of sweet and sour chicken, prodding it and poking it with her chopstick. She looks up from her food and sees him staring straight at her. He swallows a mouthful of rice and, setting his plate down on the cardboard box next to him, he begins to say what they've both been thinking for a very long time now. "Mary, I think we need to talk... about us."__  
_


	7. Home Truths

**_GOOD NEWS, EVERYONE... Since we last met, I discovered that I didn't completely screw up my exams and am now the proud owner of a second class honours degree in Law - I'll be graduating in just over a week. ANYWAY, I'm so so so sorry that this has taken me so long - I moved out of my Uni house (sad times) and have been in work most days since coming back home. I haven't really had a chance to get much done. _**

**_I know I say it a lot, but I'm torn over this chapter... but the next one will make up for it, I promise. And Lavinia may seem like a total bitch, but she and Matthew do have a heart to heart later on where I think she redeems herself. _**

**_So, without further ado - here we go. Bonus teenage student M/M, Arya/Gendry references, and lots of Chinese food. Enjoy and please review, I'm so grateful when you do :) x_**

* * *

_Bored. She was so bored. Exams were over and there was just absolutely nothing to do. Most had either moved out already or were spending some time at home before moving out properly. Mary had no such luck – her mother was over in New York, her father busy with work in the City, and her sisters were both preoccupied with school. Hence the fact she was stuck here until the end of term with nothing to do but kill off her brain cells one by one watching crappy daytime television – honestly, there are only so many Sixty Minute Makeovers a girl can take (and she's convinced it's all a hoax – the paintwork looks suspiciously dry after all)._

_ She sits in the kitchen eating a yoghurt and flipping through the pages of Hello Magazine – oh how it was all so tediously dull. University had been the escapism that she'd needed from the life of glitz and glamour that adorns the pages in front of her. Now, at the end of her first year, the novelty has worn off. That isn't to say that she's craving the A List lifestyle again, far from it actually – she just needs a bit of excitement._

_ Lost in her own little world, Mary doesn't even notice the kitchen door open, and it's only when Matthew slams a cupboard a little more vigorously than necessary that she's torn from her reverie. _

_ "You look as bored as I feel," he says._

_ "This isn't how most normal nineteen year olds spend Friday nights, is it?" she asks, licking the last of the yoghurt off the spoon._

_ Matthew laughs. "You've never been a normal nineteen year old. In fact, I don't think you've ever been a **normal **teenager full stop."_

_ She quirks an eyebrow at him and smiles. "And tell me, dearest Matthew, just what is it that **normal **teenagers do?"_

_ "Oh, I don't know," he shrugs, trying to recall some long forgotten memory from his misspent youth. "Go out and get drunk from drinking cheap cider in fields and..."_

_ "Then we'll do that then."_

_ "Beg your pardon?"_

_ "We'll go out and get drunk in a field. Although, I don't have any cheap cider, but I do have a bottle of red under my desk."_

_ He looks at her for a moment or two, laughing again when he realises she's deadly serious. "Fine... I'll just go and get changed," he says, looking down at his pyjama pants and well loved British Lions rugby shirt._

_ "No need. Just grab us a couple of hoodies and we'll go as we are," Mary replies. She too is dressed for bed in a pair of black shorts and matching camisole edged in white lace – actually, she's spent much of her time these past few days wearing pretty much the same thing. Why bother dressing up when you have nowhere to go? It really does show just how much she's changed since September. _

_ Matthew sighs, admitting defeat. There's no stopping that girl when she's got an idea in her head. _

**_-xxx-_**

_Barefoot and with a bottle of wine, a blanket, a couple of Matthew's hoodies, and a bar of chocolate left over from the emergency revision supplies box in hand, the pair make their way downstairs and out into the warm summer night. It's not long gone dark and the majority of the night's revellers have already made their way into town – this is probably the quietest halls will be tonight. They find themselves in their usual spot – a bench underneath one of the trees in a secluded garden behind their building. _

_ "Did you think to bring mugs?" _

_ "No. We'll just have to make do with the bottle."_

_ "__You're not too fussy about doing things properly, are you?"_

_ "And you are?"_

_ "Less than you might thing," she smirks, breaking up the bar of chocolate. "I'm sitting outside, in public and wearing pyjamas aren't I?"_

_ Matthew laughs. "I'll make a commoner of you yet, my lady."_

_ She narrows her eyes at him, abhorring the nickname that had been attached to her in the spirit of mockery during Freshers Week. "**Don't** call me my lady."_

_ "As my lady commands," Matthew smirks mischievously, knowing full well he's rubbing her up the wrong way. _

_ Mary snatches the bottle from him and takes a long, slow swig. "Oh Matthew, you're hardly from the dregs of society yourself."_

_ He smiles as he helps himself to chocolate. "You'd be surprised. My parents came from nothing. They both worked incredibly hard to get to where they are. They wanted nothing but the best for me, sending me to all the right schools and giving me all I could ever want. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't spoilt or anything. I started working when I was fifteen because they wanted me to learn to appreciate the value of money. My father died not ago..." _

_ "How did... I mean, how did...?"_

_ "How did he die?"_

_ Mary nods and hands him the bottle, sensing that her friend is going to need it. _

_ "Afghanistan. Roadside bomb," he says, knocking back the rich red liquid – wine is the wrong thing to be doing this with and they'll regret it in the morning. "It was a couple of years ago now and it still only feels like yesterday."_

_ Mary's eyes widen in shock. "He was in the army?"_

_ "Not exactly... well, sort of. He was a Captain in the Medical corps. My grandfather on my mother's side was his senior officer when he first joined. It's how my parents met... she was... **is** a nurse."_

_ "And yet medicine wasn't your calling."_

_ He shakes his head. "No. I did consider it, but I chose law in the end. Maybe medical law is an option one day... who knows."_

_ Shivering, Mary pulls on one of the hoodies and toys with the drawstrings. "I'm sorry, about your father. He sounds like a good man... a brave man. He sounds like... never mind."_

_ "Sounds like what?"_

_ She looks up at him, dark eyes filled with sympathy. Their friendship is growing stronger every day, but there are still some things they haven't spoken about – the fact that he's opening up about such personal details is a testament to how far they've come these past few months, considering how much they loathed one another when they first met. "He sounds an awful lot like the man I now know you to be."_

_ Matthew smiles, realising just how lucky he is to be able to call this remarkable young woman his friend. "I always admired my father when I was growing up. If I can just be half the man he was then I'll be incredibly happy. Like I said though, who knows what the future will bring."_

_ "Hmmm... the future," Mary sighs. "Scary, isn't it? I can't believe we've finished our first year already. Time flies and all that."_

_ "Any idea what you want to do yet? I know we have plenty of time, but it's never too early to start considering the options."_

_ "Don't laugh, but I've been considering the bar."_

_ He stares at her open mouthed for a second. "I'm sorry, for a second there I thought you said the bar," he laughs. "You want to be a barrister?"_

_ "I told you not to laugh!" she chides. "And I didn't say I **wanted** to be a barrister, just that it's an option. You know me, Matthew... I like a good argument."_

_ A comfortable silence transpires between them for a moment or two, and he's glad that the sombre mood has dissipated. "Well," he says. "If you really like a good argument... we should see more of each other."_

_ Mary laughs. "We live under the same roof; I don't think that's possible." She catches his eye and the look he's giving her tells her that that's not what he meant._

_ "Fine," she says, forcibly removing the wine bottle from his hands and taking a drink. "Dinner on Monday... but it is **not **a date!"_

**_-xxx-_**

Matthew sighs with relief as he flops down on the sofa, the last of the boxes having finally been moved into his new flat. It's been over a month since he and Lavinia had split up and he's beginning a new chapter in his life. Lily, of course, is still his number one priority and they're in the middle of working something out between them. It's not a perfect situation, but it could be so much worse. He watches as Mary potters around the kitchen looking for cutlery, a recently delivered carrier bag filled to the brim with Chinese takeaway sitting on the worktop.

"Mary, this isn't fine dining at the Dorchester. It doesn't matter if the plates don't match," he laughs and she shoots him **that **look – the one where she raises her eyebrows at him, shoots him daggers with her eyes and silently tells him to leave her alone and let her get on with it. He knows that this is his cue to shut up and so, instead, he decides to make himself useful and fetch the wine from the fridge. Partly because he doesn't know where the glasses are and partly because he knows it will wind her up, he pulls out two mugs from the cupboard (as an excessive tea drinker, he'd made sure to put the mugs, a box of PG Tips, and some sugar out ready – the important stuff as he'd called it) and fills them with generous measures of Rosé.

"Matthew!" she practically squeaks when she catches sight of what he's doing.

"You never change, do you?" he smirks.

"Nor do you... I seem to recall one evening at the end of first year when you and I sat drinking red wine straight out of the bottle under the stars."

Matthew laughs and leans back against the worktop. "Well, what can I say? I'm a romantic."

Mary scoffs as she begins plating up the food. "You think that was romantic? Besides, we weren't even together then so it doesn't really count."

He smiles fondly as he recalls that night – they had been so at ease around each other then, sitting outside in their pyjamas, sharing their deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers how he'd opened up to her at last about his father – the only person he had ever spoken to about what had happened beside his own mother. It seems that now, at last, that familiarity and trust has finally been rebuilt at last. However, there is one thing he still doesn't yet feel ready to share with her – the full story of what happened the night Lavinia left.

**_-xxx-_**

_It had been a hectic few days at the office – a major multi-national corporation had wanted to renegotiate a multi-billion pound contract and it had been a mammoth effort to get it all sorted on time. He smiles fondly as he sees Lavinia coming down the stairs having just put Lily to bed. _

_ "I didn't hear you come in," she says, draping her arms around his neck._

_ "I literally just walked through the door. It's nice to be home at a reasonable hour for once. How are you, anyway?"_

_ "Tired," she sighed. "But I think she's getting better and that's all that matters really." Lily had come down with her first cold several days ago and both parents had been frantic with worry, neither quite knowing what they could do to ease their darling girl's suffering. _

_ Matthew smiles and kisses the top of his girlfriend's head as he pulls her into his warm embrace. He can sense that something isn't quite right – her muscles are tense and her body heavy, and there's just something about her general demeanour that's unnerving him._

_ "Darling, is everything alright?"_

_ She pulls away from him and folds her arms across her body almost defensively, her big doey eyes are filled with sadness and grief. "No," she says, clearly fighting tears. "Not really... put the kettle on. I think we need to talk."_

_He knows something is definitely wrong when, instead of taking her usual place curled up in the armchair, she comes and sits beside him on the sofa – her hands are trembling slightly as she tightly clutches her mug. _

_ "What's going on?"_

_ "I don't know... I really don't know." She sighs wearily. "There are things we need to sort out."  
"Like what exactly?"_

_ "Like... us."_

_ A sickening sense of déjà vu overwhelms him – he's been here before and he knows what's coming next, he's almost certain of it. "Us? What do you mean **us**?" He knows exactly what she means – their relationship has become so strained of late. They're both tired and irritable, and he'd always put it down to the stress of having a new baby. Lily hadn't been planned – this wasn't to say they hadn't been careful, they were mature and sensible adults and had taken every precaution necessary. However, they'd learnt the hard way that these things aren't always completely effective. It had taken them some time to entertain the idea of becoming parents, but when their beautiful little girl had made her entrance into the world they had loved her instantly._

_ ...But he had a feeling that they had lost some of the love they had for each other somewhere along the way._

_ "I love you, Matthew..."_

_ "But?"_

_ "Pardon?"_

_ "There's something else... I know there is."_

_ Lavinia tries and fails to subtly wipe away the tears from her cheeks. "But I can't help but think that if it wasn't for Lily, you and I wouldn't be together at all anymore."_

_ He most certainly hadn't been expecting that but, deep in his heart, he knows she's right._

**_-xxx-_**

He had fought for her that night, begged her to stay with him and asked her to reconsider - even if it was only on a temporary basis, he hadn't been ready for it to completely end. He'd told her that they could make it work – that they had to for Lily. But then he'd realised how incredibly selfish that sounded. They weren't happy together and who was he to resign someone to a life they didn't want? It was cruel, really, and he'd never once thought himself to be a cruel man. Losing Lavinia was perhaps the lesser of two evils...

"Thank you for helping me today," he says, trying to stop himself from dwelling upon what had happened. "Like I said, I'd got most of it done, it was just the last few bits and pieces."

Mary smiles warmly at him as they sit down at last. "Not a problem... we're rather quiet at work right now, you've kept me busy."

They eat in comfortable silence but, all the while, Mary is subtly studying him – she knows him well enough to know that something is troubling him.

"There's something you're not telling me," she finally says. "You used to tell me everything."

Matthew sighs. "I'm fine... and I know I did, but things were different then... **we **were different then."

"I'm sorry it's just... never mind."

Mary toys with the piece of sweet and sour chicken, prodding it and poking it with her chopstick. She looks up from her food and sees him staring straight at her. He swallows a mouthful of rice and, setting his plate down on the cardboard box next to him, he begins to say what they've both been thinking for a very long time now.

"Mary, I think we need to talk... about us."

She furrows her brow in confusion. "What is there to talk about? We're friends..."

"But is that all?"

"I don't understand."

"We **kissed**, Mary."

"I know... but we were drunk and, I know that doesn't make it any better but... is that why Lavinia broke up with you?"

Matthew shakes his head. "No, she doesn't know... I couldn't tell her. I don't know what sort of monster that makes me but, I just couldn't risk us falling apart... how blind I was not to see that we already had. I don't actually know why she broke up with me, she hasn't actually said... with you and I it was a case of too much too soon, but I have a feeling it's not that simple this time." He laughs almost bitterly before looking at her with tear filled eyes. "And, to add insult to injury, I'm almost a thousand pounds out of pocket."

"Why?"

"I'd put the deposit down on an engagement ring... I was going to ask her to marry me at Christmas."

"Oh, Matthew... I'm sorry."

"Don't be... please, don't feel sorry for me." He picks up their discarded plates and carries them into the kitchen before leaning against the worktop. "And you're right... we are just friends."

"Are we though?"

"Yes... I mean, you seem rather happy with your Mr Camel Pumpkin or whatever his name is."

"Kemal Pamuk," Mary giggles as she moves to stand beside him, refilling their glasses – it's a snapshot of domestic life that is a bittersweet reminder of everything they once and could have had. "And it's as good as over... he's going back to Turkey soon and I'll doubt I'll ever see him again. It was a fling, nothing more."

Matthew swears he feels his heart flip at this and he knows that he needs to take this chance.

"Then... do you think that maybe after Christmas we could..."

Her breath hitches – she wants him to ask and if he doesn't then she will. "Could what?"

"Mary, would you like to go out for dinner with me one night? But... not as friends."

"Not as friends?" she smirks, fully intending to play with him a little. "Whatever do you mean?"

He can't help but laugh. "I'm asking you on a date... a proper one. I think that we should maybe give this another go. You, me... us"

Mary nods in agreement. "Us?"

"Us."

"Good... then it's a date."

* * *

_**Next Chapter:** He finds her sitting on the rooftop, the spectacular city skyline sprawling out below them and the New Year's Eve party they've escaped from rages several floors below them. She's oblivious to his presence as she sits there sipping champagne, tendrils of dark hair fluttering in the winter wind. He's still in love with her, he always has been in a way and, at midnight, he's going to tell her... __  
_


	8. Without You

**_I'm not even going to do one of my big speeches this time - that's how excited I am about this chapter. Thank you again for all your lovely reviews. I would have got back to you all, but I was frightened of giving away the surprises. So, here we go - enjoy and review as always._**

**_In which the merits of items found in the Ann Summers catalogue are discussed, there's a lot of Christmas related innuendo, Violet asks what a fuck buddy is, there's a shit tonne of booze involved, and Matthew finds himself asking "What would Colin Firth do?"_**

* * *

The Abbey at Christmas is a spectacular sight to behold –the grand tree in the lobby reaches up as high as the first floor balcony, clusters of cinnamon scented candles litter every surface, and garlands of holly and ivy creep around the banister of the main staircase. Mary adores this time of year, and loves nothing more than spending it here. It's Christmas Eve and the family – accompanied by a select group of guests – are sharing pre-dinner drinks in the hotel's Library Bar.

"Hello, Mary," her grandmother and Crawley family matriarch, Violet, greets her, having just arrived on a flight from her house in Monaco – she'd moved out there about a year or so after her husband, James, had died, calling it a retirement present to herself (when asked what she had retired from – as everyone knows that Violet Crawley has never had to work a single day in her life – she had merely responded with "Marriage, my dear... for it is the most taxing job of all")

"Are you married yet?"

Mary rolls her eyes. "Hello, Granny, lovely to see you again," she smiles. "And, no... not since the last time I saw you."

"Oh well, isn't that a pity? Not to worry, I'm sure your mother probably has a long list of bachelors invited up here over Christmas. Whatever happened to your Greek?"

"Greek? Oh, Kemal was Turkish."

"And I take it he couldn't be here?"

"No, he's gone back to Turkey... I don't think we'll be seeing one another again. And, anyway, we were just..." she struggles to find the right word to summarise her relationship with the exotic Mr Pamuk, knowing full well that she can't turn round to her grandmother and say "_Oh no, he's not my boyfriend... we just had something of an arrangement. He was basically my fuck buddy_" because one, that would be awkward, and two, it would be met with the inevitable question of "_what is a fuck buddy?_" which would be, well... awkward.

"He was just my friend."

"Of course he was, dear. We've all had our fair share of Turkish delight... if you want to have a talk about it, then come to me. I was very open and discreet in my day."

Mary is saved from this somewhat unpleasant conversation when Sybil appears at her side, having no doubt managed to sneak out for a crafty fag – the youngest of the three sisters smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish, and has a mouth on her that could make a sailor blush.

"I thought you'd given up," Mary chides as their grandmother leaves them alone.

"I have... sort of. No, I wasn't smoking... I was playing matchmaker."

"What?"

"To Edith and Evelyn and you, dear sister, owe me ten pounds."

Mary is completely confused. "Why?"

Sybil's lips curl up into a mischievous smile. "Remember our bet about Edith and Evelyn?"

"Vaguely."

"Well, I said that they'd be together by Christmas... and from what I've just seen, I think Santa will most **definitely** be slipping his gift into Edith's stocking tonight."

"Pictures or it didn't happen."

Grinning triumphantly like the cat that got the cream, Sybil pulls her iPhone out of the back pocket of her jeans, thumbs through her photo album and hands it over to her sister.

"Oh my God! Were you hiding in the bushes again?"

"Who was hiding in the bushes?" A rather rosy cheeked Edith asks as she joins her two sisters.

"Nobody," they say in unison.

Edith glares at them, not entirely convinced. "You two are up to something, I know it."

"Up to something?" Sybil asks. "Us? Whatever gave you that impression?"

"Hmmm... so, Mary... is your Turkish gentleman joining us at all over Christmas."

Mary looks utterly repulsed at the mention of his name. "No he won't... shall we get a drink? I've a few things I need to get off my chest."

**_-xxx-_**

The alcohol flows over the course of the next hour or so, leaving each of the three sisters at various stages of intoxication. The more she drinks, the more Mary talks and, the more Mary talks, the more she begins to rant about her former lover.

"Do you know what he bought me?" Mary says, looking at her sisters. "A rabbit... and not the floppy eared kind either, simply with a note attached to it that read '_for when I'm not around_'... I mean, can you believe it?"

"And did you, you know? Use it?" an equally tipsy Sybil asks.

"Oh, darling, of course not... I'm a thoroughly modern woman, I already have one."

"What did you do with it then?"

"It's still all in the box at the bottom of my wardrobe."

"Can I have it? Bullets are getting awfully tiresome."

"Sybil!" Edith practically squeaks, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that nobody is listening in on their conversation.

Mary rolls her eyes. "Oh, Edith, don't be such a prude. You should get yourself one you know, they really are the most wonderful little gadgets."

"What are wonderful little gadgets?" their mother asks as she finds her three daughters huddled together in the corner.

"iPads," Sybil replies, causing Mary to choke on a stuffed olive.

**_-xxx-_**

Mary plays with the pendant around her neck, staring blankly at the wall. The last gift she had unwrapped this morning had been from Matthew and it had honestly brought tears to her eyes. Picking up the small, beautifully wrapped square present from underneath the tree, she had turned the tag over and, in his unruly scrawl, was written '_because you're one of a kind_'. She'd known it was jewellery the second she tore off the paper but what she saw inside the box completely took her breath away. Inside was a tiny silver snowflake pendant – it was nothing spectacular but, to her, it was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen and she had instantly decided that she would treasure it forever.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were in here."

"Sybil? What are you still doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep and saw that light on in the kitchen. Do you want some tea?"

Mary smiles fondly at her little sister and nods. "I couldn't sleep either. I was... thinking."

"About Matthew?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You still love him, don't you?"

Mary says nothing and stares at the floor, knowing full well that Sybil can read her like a book. "It's not that, it's just..."

"Do you want to know what I think?" Sybil says, curling up at the opposite end of the sofa with a steaming mug of tea in hand. "Tell him what's in your heart. If you love him, let him know... you'll regret it if you don't."

"But what if he works thing out with Lavinia? What if they decide to give it another go and bring Lily up as part of a proper family?"

Sybil laughs. "Who could ever prefer Lavinia Swire to you?"

"That's not the point, Sybil... she's the mother of his child."

Sybil sighs – she's tried, but she knows better than anyone just how stubborn Mary can be. "Well at least think about it... what is it Granny always says? You can't win the prize if you're not in the raffle."

"I wish I had your optimism."

"Didn't you say he was going to be at that New Year's Eve party you're going to?"

"Yes, but..."

"Well tell him then. Edith and I are going too so, if it backfires, you won't be there on your own. But just remember to leave us with the spare key in case you confess your undying love for one another and end up back at his shagging each other's brains out."

Mary rolls her eyes. "Honestly, it's just all about sex with you isn't it?"

"Not always... but in all seriousness, at least if you and Matthew get back together it will stop Granny and Mama trying to set you up all the time."

"Mmm... I'm almost certain that any day now they're going to start going round exclaiming '_such fun_'... you know, like Penny from Miranda?"

"Oh God, don't encourage them."

The two sisters giggle before settling into a comfortable silence as they finish off their tea. Mary glances over at Sybil, wondering when it was that she became so wise. Deep in her heart, Mary knows she's right...

...If she doesn't tell him, she'll regret it forever.

**_-xxx-_**

As ever, she had quite literally taken his breath away as he'd caught sight of her across the crowded room. She looks stunning in the same blue dress worn by Kate Middleton when she announced her engagement and, although he may be ever so slightly biased, he thinks she looks more beautiful than the Duchess of Cambridge. She pushes her hair back behind her ear, laughing as she engages in conversation with an old University friend, sipping a gin and tonic and looking so much more carefree than he's seen her in a long time.

She catches his eye and suddenly everything feels a little claustrophobic, her pulse quickens as she takes in the sight of him – he looks completely irresistible in a pale blue shirt, jeans and a dark grey suit jacket, his floppy blonde hair a little mussed from where he keeps running a hand through it. She needs to speak to him, and the thundering bass of the music means that her rather important words won't be heard. Excusing herself from her present company, she manages to sneak away seen only by the one person she wants to be alone with right now.

** _-xxx-_**

He finds her sitting on the rooftop, the spectacular city skyline sprawling out below them and the New Year's Eve party they've escaped from rages several floors below them. She's oblivious to his presence as she sits there like something from a pre-Raphaelite masterpiece, tendrils of dark hair fluttering in the winter wind. He's still in love with her, he always has been in a way and, at midnight, he's going to tell her.

"Hello," she smiles, pulling her black blazer tighter around her as she shivers in the cold.

"Fancy seeing you here," he replies. "Especially when I've commandeered a bottle of champagne and two glasses... real ones, this time."

"You mean they aren't plastic, mugs, or made of polystyrene."

"No... Actual proper champagne flutes. Call it my new year's resolution to start doing things the way a proper gentleman should."

"Oh Matthew," she laughs. "You **are** a proper gentleman... it's your methods that are just somewhat uncouth, but what else can I expect from an over sentimental Northerner?"

"Need I remind you that, on your passport, your place of birth is York? Which, my friend, makes you too an over sentimental Northerner."

"Touché," she replies, taking a glass of champagne from him.

"Here's to twenty-twelve... a new year which can't possibly be any worse than the last one."

Mary laughs. "Don't tempt fate," she replies, suddenly aware that her thigh is pressing against his – even now, after all that they have been through, the slightest touch from him sends a jolt of pure electricity rocketing up her spine. "Mmm..." she adds after a moment or two. "I love this song."

_I can't win, I can't reign  
I will never win this game  
Without you, without you  
I am lost, I am vain,  
I will never be the same  
Without you, without you_

Matthew sets his glass down and gets to his feet, holding out his arms towards her.

"Dance with me," he says.

"What?"

"You heard me..."

"Ask me properly."

He sighs and draws himself to his full height. "Miss Mary Crawley, might I have the honour of this dance."

"Indeed you may, good sir."

She giggles as he pulls her into a hold as one would the waltz, but his hand quickly drops to her waist and he pulls her impossibly close to him.

"You can't dance like this to this song."

"Says who?"

_I won't run, I won't fly  
I will never make it by  
Without you, without you  
I can't rest, I can't fight  
All I need is you and I,  
Without you, without you _

Mary buries her head into his neck, inhaling that familiar scent that is oh so familiarly Matthew – she picks up a hint of Abercrombie and Fitch cologne, smiling to herself when she realises that he still wears it years after she bought him his first bottle as a birthday present. They both address each other at the same time.

"You first," he says.

"Matthew, there's something I need to tell you."

"Oh? Good news I hope."

"I think it is... but it changes things. It changes everything, but I know it will be worth it in the end. You see, the thing is..."

"Yes?" he's getting hopeful now – "_say it, just say it... tell me you love me and I'll say it back_."

She takes a deep breath – truth be told, she's been absolutely dreading this moment. "I'm going to New York... for six months."

And, just like that, his world collapses in on itself – that's not what he was expecting at all. "America? For **six months**?"

She nods as she looks up into his eyes, trying and failing miserably not to get lost in his those baby blue depths. "Yes. Remember how I said that CNG were in the process of taking over a small PR firm in the States? Well, it all went through a few weeks ago and they've asked me to go over there and help get the ball rolling."

Matthew forces a smile, even though he is genuinely happy for her. It's nice to see that she's thriving when so many are collapsing under the heavy burdens that this fragile economy places upon them. She's leaving him though, for six months... that's half a year.

"That's excellent," he says. "Really, it is. When do you leave?"

"Well, that's the thing... I start next Monday. I fly out on Wednesday."

Wednesday.

That was in just four short days... not even that considering it's now only minutes to midnight.

"Anyway, enough about business... this isn't the time or the place. What was it you wanted to say?"

"Oh... err." He knows he can't very well say what he had wanted to say now, not when she's leaving. He needs to think fast. "Well, I just thought that, considering I don't have to adhere to my rule of doing things properly just yet... I just wanted to say... Happy New Year, Mary."

"It's only five to."

"Exactly," he smiles, his voice low and seductive. Gently, he places her hand on his shoulder, eyes never leaving hers and tenderly caressing her knuckles with his thumb. She can feel his nose pressing against her cheek – it's like ice against the fire that rises from her blood and manifests in a radiant blush. His eyes flutter closed while hers remain wide and alert until the last possible moment because she honestly can't believe that this is happening at last. She's frightened that if she shuts them, even for a second, then all of this will vanish into thin air and become lost in the flurry of snow that has begun to fall from the heavens.

A chorus of rather drunken voices shatters the moment and they practically leap back from each other, staring towards the doorway of the stairwell. Most of the partygoers have made their way up onto the roof to see in the new year and watch the fireworks from the embankment.

"There you two are," Edith says. "We thought you'd got lost."

"Not exactly," Mary replies. They had got lost in a way – so lost in one another that they had forgotten where they were.

As the countdown begins, Mary feels Matthew's hand reach for her own, their freezing cold fingers twining together. It's a gesture that doesn't go unnoticed by Sybil, who shoots her sister a rather wide eyed look as though to say "_Well"_. The eldest sister shakes her head subtly, her shoulders sinking with disappointment.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

As a raucous (if not somewhat slightly slurred) rendition of _Auld Lang Syne_ breaks out on the rooftop in central London, mingled with cries of "_ooh's_" and "_aaah's_" as the spectacular display begins, lighting up the night sky with flashes of pink, green and a whole host of other colours. As Mary turns to kiss Matthew, he is dragged away by the same woman she had been talking to before making her escape onto the roof.

The moment has well and truly passed, and God only knows when they shall get another.

**_-xxx-_**

It's Wednesday at last – they day that he's been dreading all week. They'd met last night in a pub round the corner from the offices of Allen and Overy after he'd finished work for a farewell drink, and yet he still hadn't told her. He'd gone home and watched _Love Actually_ on ITV2 for the millionth time, asking himself "_What would Colin Firth do?_"

Having been in court all morning, he's no longer needed at the office and has managed to make an early dart home. Loosening his tie, he doesn't even have a chance to take off his shoes before he's made his decision.

Reaching for his phone and car keys, he calls the one person who will tell him everything he needs to know.

"Sybil!" he shouts, almost with glee when she finally picks up. "Sybil it's Matthew."

"_Matthew_?" she asks. "_What do you want_?"

"I need to know what flight Mary's on today. I need to know if I'm too late or not."

"_Too late for what_?"

He pauses for a second and sighs as he locks the door to his flat behind him. "Because I need to see her... I'm going after her."

"_WHAT_?"

"I said I'm going after her."

"_Yes, I heard what you said... Oh, Matthew, that's so romantic_!"

He can't help but laugh as he races down the stairs. "I'm glad you think so. Have you got the flight details?"

"Oh_, yes... I'll get them for you now... __She's on flight BA0113 from Heathrow terminal five to JFK... it departs at four. I'll text you everything_."

"Thanks, Sybil... you might have just saved my life."

"_No worries. Just... tell her you love her_."

"I will. At least I think I will."

"_Matthew_..."

"No, I know what I'm doing."

"_Sure about that_?"

"Yes," he replies with a sigh. "I do love her, I really do and I want to make it work this time, but I just want to leave it up to her... I want her to be happy whatever she chooses."

"_And she will be, I'm sure of it_," Sybil says. "_Well... good luck_."

"Thank you, again... and I really think I'm going to need it."

**_-xxx-_**

David Guetta's _Without You_ blasts out of the stereo as he makes the frantic drive towards Heathrow, going as fast as the car (and the law) will allow him to and his mind is flooded with the memory of New Year's Eve and of them dancing to this song on the roof. He hadn't had chance to tell her that night, and he'll regret it forever if he doesn't say something now. Aside from Lily, this woman is his everything - he'd loved Lavinia so very much, but it had been a different love to that he'd felt for Mary.

"HOW MUCH?" he shouts as he sees the prices on the way into the car park, tearing his thoughts away from her. "Daylight bloody robbery!" At £6.90 for an hour's parking, he hopes it doesn't take him long to find her and confess his feelings – which does actually quash the romance somewhat. Finding a space as close to the door as possible and with Sybil's instructions firmly in hand, he practically sprints into the terminal building. He knows she's on a British Airways flight but, in his haste, it doesn't register with him that this is Terminal Five and they're **all** British Airways flights – so much for thinking it would be easy to find. His heart hammers against his ribcage and adrenaline races through his body. His sharpened skim reading skills are on his side as he scans the boards searching for the check-in desk of the JFK flight. He doesn't find it but what he does catch sight of is so much better.

"MARY!" he shouts, causing a number of other rather startled passengers to stare at him like he's a man possessed.

Matthew pushes his way through the crowd, still shouting her name as he follows her towards security.

"MARY, WAIT!" He can't help but breathe a sigh of relief when she finally turns to face him, her dark eyes shining with surprise.

"Matthew, what are you doing here?"

"I... I couldn't let you go," he says rather breathlessly. "At least... at least not without knowing."

"Without knowing what?"

"That I... well, that... oh, sod it." Rather spontaneously, he pulls her close to him by her waist and kisses her. At first, he thinks it's all gone horribly wrong when she doesn't respond but, when she does, it's incredible. Her arms snake up around his neck and he can feel the sharp corners of her passport and boarding pass scratching against his skin. It's a beautiful contrast to the softness of her lips against his – it's so wonderfully familiar after everything that they had once shared, yet it feels so new and full of promise at the same time.

Mary doesn't even realise that she's crying until they pull apart and he brushes the tears from her cheek with his thumb.

"Tell me, Mr Crawley, was it your intention to make me cry in public?"

"No," he laughs. "But it was worth it."

"You're impossible," she says with a smile before leaning in to kiss him again – it's much quicker than the last, but lacking none of the passion and intimacy. "I really am going to miss you, you know."

"And I you. I don't want to say that this means something because six months is an awful long time... a lot can happen in six months. Go to New York, have an amazing time and, if you want to, fall in love... You made me watch enough Sex and the City to know that's what people go to there to do. Go out there, drink... what is it? Cosmopolitans, wear expensive shoes, and let loose your inner Samantha Jones."

"And... if I don't? If I go out there and come back still a single woman?"

"Then I'll be here to pick you up at the airport... and when you do, I'll say it, those three little words. Because I do, Mary... I really, really do."

"But... what if you meet someone?"

"Then so be it... whatever happens, happens... I'm sick of planning things. Let's just... let's just wait and see for a change."

She nods, utterly lost for words, and as they share a final kiss goodbye, both know deep down in their hearts that he will indeed be waiting for her in the arrivals lounge and that they'll leave hand-in-hand, stepping into a bright yet uncertain future that they'll share together.

But, as he says... six months is an awful long time.

* * *

_**Next Chapter:** Today. Today is the day she comes home. Today is the day that he meets her at the airport and today is the day that he says those three little words. "I love you..."__  
_


	9. Strangers When We Meet

**_I'm still in a state of shock regarding the response to the previous chapter - I've had to read most of your reviews on my phone while I've been on my breaks and stuff in work, hence the reason I haven't got back to most of you and for which I apologise. Thank you all for your kind words, it really does mean so much to me and encourages me to continue. _**

**_Umm... so, this chapter... where do I even begin? Mary's back and... well... DON'T HATE ME FOR THIS! If you've read Suppressio Veri, then you know how this all pans out in the end. All I'll say is Mary's got her reasons and they're pretty damn explosive, as you'll see in a few chapters from now. I'm going to go into hiding now while I let you all sharpen your pitchforks and try and find out where I live... Enjoy and let me know your feelings on this :D x _**

* * *

It's a somewhat uneventful six months- the sun rises and falls much in the same way as it has for millennia, winter turns to spring, spring tries and fails to turn into summer, but such is the notion of the Great British summer that nobody ever really puts away all their winter clothes – there's always a jumper and a pair of wellies on standby just in case.

Matthew throws himself into his work, that and Lily – who is growing stronger and more beautiful by the day – are exactly what he needs to pass away the days. In the early months of their separation, they had frequently emailed one another and talked over Skype – it wasn't the same as having her around, but he was always amazed at just how the sound of her voice could melt away all the stresses of the day. It's around April when things start to go wrong – well, not **wrong **exactly, but he can sense that something isn't right. Their conversations become less frequent and increasingly more vague...

...Until one day, he doesn't hear anything at all.

And the next day

And the next.

**_-xxx-_**

He's absolutely convinced he's on an LSD trip as he watches In the Night Garden for the millionth time, wondering what the hell must have been going through the minds of the people who came up with this whole concept. Lily, on the other hand, absolutely adores it – he can't help but smile each time the one-year-old giggles and claps with delight as she sits cuddled up to his chest. He affectionately runs a hand across her strawberry-blonde curls as he reaches for his phone, the Facebook notification immediately sending his heart racing.

_Sybil Crawley invited you to the event 'Mary's homecoming party'_

He can't help but smile and hug his daughter tighter.

"She's coming home, Lil," he grins. "Everything's going to be alright again." It fills his heart with joy to know that, a week from now, he'll be sitting here thinking that it's today. Today is the day she comes home. Today is the day that he meets her at the airport and today is the day that he says those three little words. "I love you..."

The little girl looks up at her father, her bright blue eyes – an exact replica of his own – are wide and inquisitive. She doesn't understand what's going on but if he's happy then so is she, and so Lily is quite content to giggle again and flash him her most dazzling smile. This child, he thinks to himself, is going to be quite the little heartbreaker when she grows up...

...But she won't even be allowed to speak to a boy until she's at least thirty.

**_-xxx-_**

Of course, nothing with Mary is ever plain sailing and it's on Wednesday that he gets an unexpected phone call.

"Hello stranger," he says, grinning as he stirs the milk into his tea.

"_Hello, Matthew... how are you?_"

"Missing you... but other than that I'm fine. How's New York."

"_Oh it was... fine._"

Her use of the past tense doesn't even register, but the one thing that does bother him is just how deflated she sounds. "Is everything alright? You seem... distant, and not just because you're on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean."

There's a slight pause before he hears her sigh wearily. "_I'm not... not in America I mean. I'm back in London, my flight landed this morning._"

"Well, why didn't you say?"

"_Because... everything's just a mess right now. I can't really explain over the phone._"

"Well then I'll come and see you. I'm not doing anything and..."

"_NO!_" She cuts him off, a little more aggressively than intended. "_I mean, err... no. There's no need to do that. I'm jet lagged and in no fit state to be seen by anyone right now. I suppose you're going to Sybil's grand soirée on Saturday?_"

"Yes... she invited me. Why?"

"_I'll speak to you then. Things are... well, they're rather complicated and I don't think I'll have the time to speak to you before then. There are... well, I think there are some things we need to talk about._"

His face drops and he feels sick to his stomach – he's so worried about her, having not known her to be this cagy and defensive since the first few months that they'd lived together in their first few years at University. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"_I'm... coping. Given the circumstances, I think that's rather good._"

"I'm worried about you," he admits at last.

"_I know you are,_" sighs Mary. "_I'm glad you are. Matthew..._"

"Mmm?"

"_I've missed you... I just... whatever happens, whatever **has** happened, I just want you to know that_."

"I've missed you too... more than you'll ever know."

Something is most definitely wrong and, as soon as he hangs up, he pulls his laptop out and Googles Crawley, Napier and Gordon. It takes him some time, but what he finds completely unnerves him but, at the same time, he feels so incredibly proud of her. She's the strongest woman he's ever met in his life, and what he's seeing here in black and white is yet further proof of that.

"Oh Mary," he sighs. "Why didn't you tell me?"

**_-xxx-_**

Robert and Cora Crawley's London townhouse is filled to the brim with an all manner of people, ninety-percent of whom Mary doesn't recognise – God knows where Sybil found them, but she's thankful for her little sister's efforts. This is exactly the kind of distraction she needs right now because she's had enough of business and lawyers to last her a lifetime...

...Well, one lawyer in particular might just be an exception to this rule.

The lawyer in question has taken refuge in the kitchen, leaning against the worktop – as is his custom at parties – his partner in crime by his side having returned from Ireland again for work, the pair of them looking sophisticated and suave (or at least trying to) as they sip expensive whisky and put the world to rights.

"What are you staring at?" Tom asks, noticing that Matthew is somewhat distant.

"Nothing," he replies. "Do you know that man over there?" he asks, subtly pointing to the stranger in the hallway.

Tom shakes his head. "No... well, to be fair, there are a lot of people here we don't know. Thing is, I know his face though."

"That's exactly what I mean... I've seen him somewhere before, I just can't figure out... OI!" Matthew snaps his fingers in front of his friend's eyes, Tom having become somewhat distracted the second he caught sight of the hostess. "Just... don't let Mary see you."

With a boyish grin, he claps Matthew on the back and makes a beeline for Sybil, leaving him alone to solve the mystery of the somewhat familiar stranger.

**_-xxx-_**

With a much needed gin and tonic in hand, Mary roams the house looking for him – she spies Edith and Evelyn looking very cosy in the living room and, despite earlier attempts to scare him off, Tom is happily flirting away with Sybil in the kitchen. So much has happened in the last few months that she honestly doesn't care what they do anymore – he can keep his testicles. If it makes them happy, then so be it. This isn't to say there won't be words, there will be plenty of those... but, for now, she'll let them have their fun.

"So, has the Snow Queen's ice cold heart melted at last and allowed the seeds of romance to bloom."

She sharply turns her head and smiles when she sees him there, looking exactly the same as he had done when they'd said goodbye six months ago.

"Matthew," she sighs as she falls into his embrace, his arms coming to wrap around her waist, hers around his neck, and for the first time she truly feels like she's home. She slides her hand into his and drags him towards the stairs – something they used to do all the time at University house parties - and they find themselves sat side by side somewhat intimately.

Matthew leans in to kiss her, but she turns her head at the last possible second and he catches her cheek instead of her lips.

"Are you alright?" he asks sincerely. "I mean that in all seriousness. You seem... different." He'd noticed it when they had spoken on the phone the other day, but now he can see the physical consequences of her time in the States – she's lost weight and she looks exhausted, the spark has gone from her eyes and her body language seems all... well... wrong.

"I'm getting there."

"Are you going to tell me what happened? I saw it on the internet, but I'd rather hear it from you..."

"I lost everything," she chokes. "Well, almost... needless to say, my accountants have all been fired and my investors are calling for my head on a silver platter." She laughs somewhat bitterly, desperately trying to keep herself from breaking down there and then.

"You should have said..."

"I think it's all going to be alright now though... I've had a bit of good luck these past few weeks," she smiles - one which seems rather genuine. "And I have a really good feeling about this. Well, it's all going to be alright for **me** at least. Patrick's conveniently disappeared and Evelyn seems set on going on a global manhunt until he finds the bastard and brings him back here to explain himself."

"Mary..."

"Mmm?"

"Why didn't you tell me? That you were having trouble I mean. I could have done something... **anything**... to help. I don't know what, but I would have found something."

"Oh Matthew, you really are a darling... but this was one battle I had to fight for myself."

He squeezes her hand and affectionately kisses her hair as she leans her head against his shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you're home now. Maybe this isn't the right time to ask but... do you remember what we talked about at the airport?"

Sitting up again, Mary nods and she suddenly feels sick as her stomach ties itself in knots. "Every word."

Matthew smiles as he stares into her eyes. "So... where do we stand, you and I? Us?"

She swallows back her tears, knowing that this might just be the hardest thing she's ever had to do – harder than when she'd pressed that key to their flat in Manchester back into his hand all those years ago.

"Matthew, I..." She doesn't have a chance to say what she needs to when the pair are rudely interrupted. When she looks up, she can't help but think that maybe it's for the best that they have been disturbed by this person in particular.

"There you are," the man Matthew had spied earlier in the kitchen says triumphantly as he approaches them. "Everyone was beginning to think you'd run away from your own party."

Mary looks from one man to the other and knows that there's going to be no easy way of saying this, so she may as well just get it over and done with. It's almost like she's a small child again having fallen over in the school playground and about to rip the plaster off her scabbed knee – it's going to sting, but only for a brief moment (that brief moment being until she can get her hands on yet another generous measure of gin).

"You must be Matthew Crawley... Mary's told me a lot about you," he says and Matthew picks up the hint of a Scottish twang in his voice.

Mary and Matthew exchange glances - his is one of confusion, hers one of guilt.

"Err... yes," Matthew says, shaking hands with the Scotsman. "Pleasure to meet you."

Mary shifts uncomfortably on the step as she prepares to bite the bullet - or should that be firing it into darling Matthew's heart?

"Matthew, this is Richard Carlisle... He's my fiancé."

* * *

_**Next Chapter:** A month. She's getting married in a month... he's got just four weeks to figure out how to stop this wedding, to tell her how he really feels and to convince her to spend the rest of her life with him instead. It's a seemingly impossible task, but he refuses to go down without a fight.__  
_


	10. Addicted to a Certain Kind of Sadness

**_So sorry for the delay - I graduated from University on Friday so things were completely manic and I've been away all weekend because of it. Anyway, this is just a gap filler of a chapter - sort of - and deals with the aftermath of Mary's news (which Matthew, the poor darling, understandably doesn't take too well). I was sitting on the beach at Barry Island the other day and have the rest of this story now mapped out and I can assure you there are a number of twists and turns yet to come._**

**_So, shall we continue? The flashback at the beginning picks up about twenty minutes after the end of the first chapter of Suppressio Veri (if you haven't read it, now is probably a good time but, if you don't want spoilers for the rest of this fic, don't read the second and third - does that make sense?) - I don't know why it's relevant, but it just makes a nice contrast to where they are in their rather messy relationship right now compared to the early days of simplicity (and sex... lots of sex)._**

**_ Okay, here goes... remember, reviews = love and motivation. Enjoy :) x_**

* * *

_He stares across the table at her and sighs – the Lady Mary mask is firmly in place and she's completely engrossed in the book she's reading (Well, it's actually his book – she'd swiped his copy of 'Birdsong' from the shelf in his bedroom a couple of weeks ago). What's going on underneath the table though is a completely different story as her toes caress his ankle._

_ "Mary..."_

_ "Mmm?"_

_ "Stop it."_

_ She looks up at him, her face the picture of innocence. "Stop what?"She asks._

_ "You know **what**."_

_ She gazes at him seductively as she continues her ministrations – it's been less than twenty minutes since they had emerged from their passionate rendezvous deep in the depths of the bookshelves. She can still taste him on her tongue and she wants more. Like a potent drug, she's already addicted to him – she's had her first hit and already she's craving another. The way he chews on the pen clutched between his neon-green ink stained fingers, how he flicks the hair from his eyes is so incredibly alluring and she can't believe she's never really noticed it before. _

_He can't take it any more – she's driving him to distraction again. With a weary sigh, he throws his books and pens back into his bag and, as he stands up, he holds out his hand to her._

_ "Come on then."_

_ "Where are we going?" _

_ Matthew shrugs. "Your place... my place... I'm not really bothered."_

_ A slow smile crosses her lips – she knows exactly what he's suggesting... or at least she's hoping he is. Giggling like a pair of naughty schoolchildren, they practically run across the library, ignoring the disapproving glares of the smattering of other inhabitants and staff who still linger at this late hour. They're barely out of the door leading out onto the staircase when he pushes her up against the wall and kisses her in a way that leaves her breathless. _

_ "Are you sure?" he asks. "We don't have to. We can..."_

_ She cuts him off with another searing kiss. "Stop being so chivalrous, just for one night... I don't want a date, I don't want dinner... I just want you. We can do all that another time..."_

_ They kiss again - it's slow and languid as they completely lose themselves in one another, only to be interrupted by somebody else leaving the library. _

_ "I think," she says, blushing a very pretty shade of scarlet. "We need to leave."_

**_-xxx-_**

_She slips out of bed the following morning without waking him and creeps around the house retrieving various items of clothing scattered across the hallway and down the stairs – she's glad Anna and Evelyn are both at home on a reading week so as to avoid any unnecessary and awkward questions about what had happened last night. As wonderful as it was, she needs time to process it all – they've just taken a huge step with their relationship, crossing the point of no return where it seems that they'll never be **just **friends anymore. _

_Dumping their clothes on the floor, she perches herself on the edge of the bed, content just to watch him sleep for a moment or two. The duvet is wrapped loosely around his waist and tangled around his limbs. She smiles to herself like the cat that got the proverbial cream. She wants to reach out and touch him – to explore the muscled contours of his torso in the same way she had done last night, mapping out his body beneath her fingers and committing it to memory until the end of time. He really is beautiful and she yearns with all her heart to be able to call him hers. Gently, she brushes his hair out of his eyes and presses a tender kiss to the tip of his nose. As she goes to leave, he reaches out and grabs her wrist, making her gasp with surprise._

_ "Where are you going?" he asks groggily._

_ "Good morning to you too," she replies with a smile, crawling back onto the bed to lie beside him. "I thought you might like some tea."_

_ "Mmm, tea would be wonderful... but there's one other thing I'd like first."_

_ "And what would that be?" she asks._

_ Matthew says nothing, merely smirks seductively at her in response and, before Mary can probe him any further, he rolls them both over so that she's now lying beneath him and laughing hysterically._

_ "You... Only you. I want this, Mary, I want **us**. I want us to be together... not forever, but let's just give it a go. What do you think?"_

_ She's suddenly very aware of the fact that the duvet has slipped and he's stark naked. She snakes her hands up his sides and across his chest, her fingers toying with the smattering of fine blonde hair, and her legs instinctively wrap themselves around him. She kisses him, knowing no other way to let him know what she thinks._

_ "Is that a yes then?" he asks, pushing up the navy blue Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirt she's wearing and splays his hands across the porcelain skin of her abdomen._

_ "Mmhmm..." she nods, shrugging out of the t-shirt leaving her in nothing but her knickers (which she has a feeling won't be on her person for very much longer). Everything she had wanted to say to him in this moment becomes lost as he nuzzles at her neck, peppering gentle kisses across her collarbone. "Matthew?"_

_ "What?"_

_ "Make your own bloody tea."_

_ He laughs and, suddenly not feeling quite so thirsty anymore, he pulls the duvet back over them both and they don't emerge for at least a couple of hours..._

**_-xxx-_**

Fiancé...

Her bloody _fiancé_.

The word tastes like ash in his mouth but burns his tongue as though still hot from the flames. He wants to stand up and walk away but he's trapped between her, the banister, and her fiancé.

_Fiancé_.

She can't even look at him – it breaks her heart too much. All those things he'd said to her after he'd chased her half way across London, the promises that he'd made and all those dreams she'd had of what her life with him would be like when she returned home. She'd lay awake at night alone in her Manhattan apartment reminiscing over the years they had spent together, the nights she had slept by his side and the lazy mornings spent in bed at weekends and on their days off, drinking tea, watching crap telly and failing miserably to keep the noise down as they'd had sex under the duvet. She'd giggled to herself as she'd remembered how awful his bed was, his landlord seemingly having stapled various planks of wood together that he'd found on a skip or something – there was no way that thing was safe. It creaked something terrible and they'd learnt the hard was that the walls in her house were incredibly thin. They could have had all that again (with infinitely better beds though)...

But it wasn't meant to be. She'd gone to New York a single woman and come back a fiancée.

_Fiancée._

The word seems foreign to her, almost alien. She'd never in her entire life thought that she would ever be somebody's wife... well she had once, an awful long time ago – now the man who changed her mind sits beside her on the stairs and she swears she heard his heart shatter into a thousand pieces when she introduced her fiancé.

"Do excuse me," he says, getting to his feet and storming back into the kitchen.

"Matthew... wait!" She chases after him, following him out into the garden and leaving Richard standing there somewhat confused. "Wait! Please," she begs.

"When were you going to tell me?" he asks.

"I was... I promise I was going to tell you," Mary says, fighting back her tears. "I was... really I was."

Matthew sighs. "When did it happen?"

"About six weeks ago."

"SIX WEEKS! Christ alive, Mary... I've heard of whirlwind romances but... you're not, you know?"

She shakes her head. "No. I'm not pregnant. This isn't a shotgun wedding. But it is..."

"It is what?" he asks when she hesitates.

"It is a quick one. We've set a date..."

"Already?"

Mary nods. "I need you to be up in Scotland in three and a half weeks... we're getting married then."

"A month? You're getting married in a **month**?"

"Give or take a few days, yes."

Mathew runs a hand through his hair and across his face – he honestly can't believe that this is happening. "Well then..." he says, forcing a smile. "Congratulations. I wish you and your future husband every happiness." He leans in and kisses her cheek, tasting the saltiness of her tears on his lips. "Goodnight, Mary."

Despite the sea of people standing around, smoking cigarettes and laughing as the music blares through the house, Mary feels quite alone in the middle of the garden. The whole thing has gone so incredibly wrong – he doesn't know the truth at all. How could he? Nobody does. She knows that he needs to hear the full story, it's the only way to salvage what's left of their already fragile friendship. The thing is though, she honestly doesn't know where to start...

...and, truth be told, he'd completely despise her.

**_-xxx-_**

Tom knows he's getting old when he discovers that a drunken Matthew's weight isn't as easy to carry as it once was. It's been a week since the party and with his friend's mood showing no sign of improving, he'd taken matters into his own hands and tried to fix things the Irish way by taking him for a drink.

"Tom... lost my keys."

"No you haven't," he says – they're standing in the queue for a taxi in the early hours of the morning. "You gave them to me before." Tom's tolerance for alcohol has always been stronger than Matthew's and, even though his own head feels slightly fuzzy, it's down to him to act as the responsible adult for once.

"You're boyfriend looks like he's going to be sick," a girl standing behind them says.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Yeah you are," Matthew giggles and plants a sloppy kiss on Tom's cheek. "Because... let me tell you something," he says, pointing at the poor girl. "My girlfriend... well, my ex-girlfriend who I wanted to be my girlfriend again after I broke up with my other ex-girlfriend who gave birth to my daughter, went to America and came back with a fiancé. Can you believe it? Six weeks she's known him and they're getting married soon. So... that's it... I'm done with women. I love you, Tom."

"Love you too, mate," he replies before mouthing a quick apology to the girl. "But I don't even think Jeremy Kyle can sort this one out."

"Oooh, can we go on Jeremy Carlisle?"

"Jeremy Carlisle, eh?" he asks as they climb into a taxi.

"No, not Carlisle... Kyle. Carlisle's the cock that's marrying Mary."

"Well, he is called Dick, I'll give you that one," Tom replies and the pair of them laugh like schoolboys at the back of a classroom. "You still love her, don't you?"

"Mary? Yes... I do. So much it hurts. She always does this to me. She makes me fall for her, so hard and then... BAM! She crushes me like a... grape, or something, I don't know. But I just... I can't let go so easily. It's like I'm addicted to the pain she inflicts on me..."

"Then fight for her. You still have time to make her change her mind."

"Will you help me?"

Tom nods – his judgement has been heavily clouded by alcohol and he's not entirely sure what he's agreeing to. He doubts that Matthew will even remember this conversation come morning. "Yeah, alright... Wait... she's marrying Richard Carlisle? **THE** Richard Carlisle?"

"You've heard of him?"

Tom nods. "Yeah... sort of."

"Who is he?"

"Doesn't matter... I'll let her tell you. Or look him up on Wikipedia, whichever you prefer. Let's just say there are a million and one reasons why she could be marrying him and they're all sitting in his bank account."

Matthew shakes his head. "No... Mary's not like that. She... she's not a gold digger."

Tom says nothing – he doesn't want to believe it either, but he's not entirely oblivious to what happened to her company over in the States. If his theory is true, then it might not be as simple as Matthew turning up to the church and sweeping her off her feet like a knight in shining armour.

Matthew doesn't have much time to dwell on this turn of events – his eyelids are heavy and he can feel his head dropping, coming to rest on Tom's shoulder and his last conscious thought is that of a_ month... _

She's getting married in a month - he's got just four weeks to figure out how to stop this wedding, to tell her how he really feels and to convince her to spend the rest of her life with him instead. It's a seemingly impossible task, but he refuses to go down without a fight.

* * *

_**Next Chapter:** Lily snuggles into his chest and yawns, her little hand clinging to the front of his shirt as she drifts off to sleep. He knows now in this moment that he's been so incredibly stupid - it's not down to him to save Mary. She's a big girl, she can handle herself - she's trampled all over his heart one too many times now. Standing here in his daughter's bedroom, humming a gentle lullaby, he knows that this is all that matters. "It's just you and me now, my darling girl... and I love you so very much," he whispers. "You and only you."_


	11. Darkest Before the Dawn

**_You know that bit in Lilo and Stitch where Stitch just looks up all sad and just murmers "lost"? Yeah, well that's what I think is going on in Matthew's head right now - poor bloke doesn't know what to do. I think this is mostly becoming his story more than Mary's in the sense that it's coming mostly from his point of view... Oh and I apologise if my Lavinia seems a bit OOC to any of you - I've never actually written her before... at least not properly. Hopefully I'll have more soon... that is if you're all still reading._**

**_ Enjoy :) x_**

* * *

_My name is Matthew James Crawley, and I need to man up._

He repeats this mantra to himself over and over as he walks the sodden streets of London – June, it seems, is to be a complete washout and the dull grey cloud that hangs over the capital matches his glum mood perfectly. It's been such a stressful week at work (yet again) and the pressure of being a city lawyer is finally beginning to get to him – he needs a break and a chance to get away from the city. Most of all though, he really just needs someone to talk to – trouble is, the one person he'd usually confide in is the one person is the one person he needs to talk about...

...so it seems that desperate times call for desperate measures.

**_-xxx-_**

He arrives at the Swire's home in Kent an hour earlier than planned and his mood is immediately lifted when he's greeted at the door by a smiling Lily, squirming in her mother's arms to get to him.

"Hello you," he grins back, laughing as she starts pulling at his tie.

"She's missed you," Lavinia smiles, closing the door behind them. "I think she knows when she's going to see you again."

"I missed her too. But... how about you? How are things here?"

"They're... good, I suppose. I mean, it's not exactly every twenty-something's dream to be still living at home with their parents but have you ever tried to find reasonably priced flats **and** affordable childcare in central London?"

"No... I can't say I have," Matthew replies, feeling more than just a twinge of guilt. He knows that it's partly his fault she's in this situation. "Look, Lavinia... if there's anything I can do, anything at all, all you have to do is ask."

She looks at him sympathetically, knowing exactly where he's coming from. "Oh, Matthew... that's not what I meant at all. You've been absolutely wonderful, and while we're on that subject, thank you for this weekend... you're an absolute star."

He smiles as he follows her into the kitchen. As ever, they're falling into the same routine that they always do – he takes Lily while she, without even asking if he wants it, makes tea.

"It's nothing," he says. "I enjoy having her. Besides, we have fun, don't we?"

Lilly nods, copying her father – she's quite a shy child and Lavinia had expressed her worries to Matthew that she wasn't really talking much. He'd reassured her, telling her that he had been very much the same according to his mother.

"Well, thank you anyway. I just hate all this... I want to be able to give her a proper childhood, not me disappearing every other weekend. It's not fair on you either. I know you said you enjoy it, but that's not the point... It was Rome the other week and now Paris. I want to be able to go to those cities and take her with me, to enjoy them and experience them."

"I know what you mean," he says. "Work's getting to me too. I'm starting to think that the City wasn't the best idea I've ever had."

"But you do it so well."

"Mmm... I think that's open for debate," he half laughs. "Besides, I never really wanted it. It just... happened."

"Like a lot of things in life."

"Exactly." He likes how things have fallen between the two of them – it's civil and friendly and he genuinely does think that, in another life, they really could have had something.

"So," Lavinia says, sitting down in the armchair opposite him. "I hear Mary Crawley's back in town again."

Matthew looks at her, somewhat perplexed. "How do you know that."

"Oh, I have my sources," Lavinia smirks. "Are you and she finally together then?"

"I don't know what you mean," Matthew says, taking a sip of his tea.

"I have eyes, Matthew. It's obvious that the two of you belong together."

"Lavinia..."

"I loved you, very much and for a time I wanted nothing more than to marry you and start a family together. Well, we have half of that and I'm eternally grateful for it... but I didn't really know what I was taking on. There's just so much history between the two of you and, even from that first time I saw you sitting together in the library that night I couldn't help but think how wonderful the two of you looked together."

"I don't... I know what you're saying but... it's pointless. She's engaged... she's marrying someone else."

She's not at all surprised – in fact, he's more surprised at her not being surprised than she is about what he's just told her. Lavinia, it seems, knows far more than she's letting on. "Is she? Well... we'll see about that."

There's a comfortable silence between them, filled only by Lily's babbling as something colourful catches her eye – she's easily distracted but, again, so was Matthew as a child.

"There's something I need to tell you," Lavinia says after a moment or two. "I'm... seeing someone. His name is François... François Bayard. We met the last time I was in Paris."

"He's French?"

"No Matthew, he's Welsh."

Matthew laughs. "Sorry, it's just... you didn't really need to tell me, you know. What you do with your life... well, it's your business."

"I really like him, Matthew, and I really think this is going to work between us but, whatever happens, he will never **ever** replace you as Lily's father. I won't let that happen."

He can't help but smile – he's always known this, but it's just nice to hear her say it. "If you're happy, then Lily's happy... and I can't ask for more than that."

"Good," Lavinia smiles. "Now, about Mary..."

**_-xxx-_**

Talking about Mary with Lavinia had made Matthew realise just how much of a fool he's been. Setting down the book of fairytales, he wonders if reading them to her is right – life isn't a fairytale. There are no handsome princes, damsels in distress or fairy godmothers who can put everything right with a wave of their magic wand. No, he wants her to grow up knowing that she has to be the heroine of her own story. Lily snuggles into his chest and yawns, her little hand clinging to the front of his shirt as she drifts off to sleep. He knows now in this moment that he's been so incredibly stupid - it's not down to him to save Mary. She's a big girl, she can handle herself - she's trampled all over his heart one too many times now and she doesn't need him to be her knight in shining armour, riding in on his noble steed to banish the dragons and save her from her tower. Standing here in his daughter's bedroom, humming a gentle lullaby, he knows that **this** is all that matters.

"It's just you and me now, my darling girl... and I love you so very much," he whispers. "You and only you."

With that, he makes an agonising decision – he's going to let her go. It's just like he said to Lavinia when she told him about François, if she's happy then nothing else matters. They started out as friends, surely they can go back to it? A quick text later and the deed is done – she's coming round tomorrow and they're going to talk about the wedding.

It's time to man up and get his priorities sorted.

**_-xxx-_**

They're sitting on the floor of his living room, consuming their fifth cup of tea of the afternoon and making lists of everything that needs to be sorted out over the next few weeks.

"You're a darling for helping me with this," Mary says, helping herself to another biscuit. "Richard pretends he's interested, but I know full well he couldn't care less."

"So if it were up to him it would be a quickie in a registry office and then straight to the pub, is that it?"

"Probably," she laughs.

"Mary," he says after a moment or two. "Are you happy?"

She looks up at him and smiles. "I think I'm about to be happy. Does that count?"

"It does if you mean it."

Mary nods. "I do... I really think I'm going to be happy with him."

Something isn't sitting right with Matthew – surely if she's marrying this man, she's always been happy with him? Why is it only now that she's thinking she **might **be? He wants to ask her, but doesn't get chance as he hears Lily starting to whimper on the baby monitor.

"Excuse me, one minute... I'll be back."

The sight of Matthew the doting father absolutely melts her heart – every time she sees him with his beautiful baby girl, she can't help but feel a little broody. Mary has always maintained that she has never had a maternal bone in her body and that she has no interest in ever having children. When she was with Matthew, she'd started to think otherwise – but having a family with Richard? No, it would never work – they're both too focused on work to ever give a child the loving family relationship it would deserve. With Matthew, there would no doubt have been a balance – they would have worked something out, just as they always had done. But, like so many things when it comes to Matthew, it's all just a distant dream that's faded into nothingness over the years. He's her friend and, truth be told, that's far more than what she deserves from him. She's hurt him so much, she knows she has, but this is just how it has to be. That chapter in their lives is over now and it's time to start a new one.

Her phone buzzes beside her – it's Sybil.

"Everything alright?" Matthew asks as he comes back into the living room.

Mary shakes her head. "I don't know... Sybil's just text me. Her ex-boyfriend's been killed in a car crash."

"My God," Matthew says, he vaguely remembers the young man Sybil had brought to one of Mary's birthday parties several years ago now. They'd spoken for quite some time and he'd rather liked him. "How tragic."

"Mmm... I should go. I think she needs me to be there for her right now."

Matthew nods. "Yes... let me know how she is, won't you?"

"I will," she says and quickly kisses him on the cheek as she says goodbye.

And so it is the plight of the youngest of the Crawley sisters that gives Matthew the wakeup call he needs – Life is far too short. You need to take every day as it comes at you and regret nothing. Things happen for a reason and they have a way of working themselves out in the end.

"_Great_," he thinks to himself. "_Now I'm **really **confused!"_

* * *

_**Next Chapter:** "Nothing happened? Darling, you were straddling his thighs looking as though you were about to ride him like Red Rum... how can you say nothing happened?"_


	12. How Sybil Got Her Groove Back

**_Okay so, first thing's first - I've had one or two reviews expressing concern that Mary is coming across as heartless in respect of her treatment of Matthew. While I understand where you're coming from, I assure you this isn't the case at all. Obviously, I know exactly what is going on in the heads of these characters but it's really quite difficult to delve deep into Mary's thoughts at this moment in time because, if I did, it would give away half the plot. This fic is the first part of what I hope to be a trilogy, if you've read Suppressio Veri then you'll understand that this is a relationship which takes an awful long time to blossom fully. I really am grateful for your constructive criticism, but I just wanted to reassure you that Mary really isn't a heartless cow and, hopefully, you'll understand why in a few chapters' time..._**

**_Also, I apologise that this chapter is a little heavy on Sybil/Tom, but it's important that their relationship develops in order for Mary to make some confessions about her own._**

**_In fact, I'm just sorry for this whole thing - ahh well._**

**_Just a short one for you this time, but I think you'll see why - Enjoy :) x_**

* * *

Sybil makes the long drive back up to the Abbey after Tom Belasis' funeral in an incredibly sombre mood. The last thing she wants to do is spend time in a room full of people she's either never met before or who she can't stand to be around at Mary and Richard's engagement party tomorrow. Barely saying a word to anyone, she'd dumped her bags in her room, grabbed her book and iPod, and headed straight for the pool. Whenever she needs a moment of solitude, it's exactly where she goes – she rarely swims in there, but she finds being around water incredibly soothing. Completely losing herself in her own little world, she screams as someone pops up from underneath the water taking her completely by surprise.

"Shit! Tom... what the hell are you doing here."

Tom pushes his wet hair out of his face and laughs. "Swimming. It's usually what people do in swimming pools."

She smiles weakly – her usual joie de vivre seemingly having been sucked from her. "Sorry... I didn't hear you," she says, showing him her iPod.

"So... what are you reading?" he asks – he knows it's small talk, but from what Mary's told him, she's barely said two words to anyone all week. It might do her good to have an actual conversation with someone."  
"John Stuart Mill... the Subjection of Women."

Tom can't help but smile – he now knows for certain that this woman has stolen his heart. "That's... a little bit heavy."

"Perhaps, but I just need something... anything, to take my mind off everything. I can't read novels because they make everything out to be so happy and perfect, but if I read my textbooks then I can't help but think that maybe there was something I could have done differently to save him... that sounds really pretentious, doesn't it? I'm only a fourth year student."

"It's not pretentious at all," he says. "There's nothing you or anyone else could have done to save him – it's just one of those things. It sucks, but that's the sad fact of life."

"He was my first love. Everyone always says you never forget that."

"No, you don't. He'd want you to be happy though... I know, I know, what do I know about this?" he says, seeing her sceptical look. Pulling himself out of the pool, he sits beside her on the edge, their toes dipping into the water. "Well... my father died when I was sixteen."

"Oh... I'm sorry. Matthew's did too, didn't he?"

Tom nods. "Yeah... I think that's one of the reasons why we became friends so quickly. We understood each other in a way that nobody else did. What I'm trying to say is... this feeling doesn't last forever, you can't **let** it last forever."

"I appreciate the advice," Sybil smiles. "But it's really hard for me to take anything you say seriously when you're half naked and... wet."

"Well then, maybe you should get half naked and wet too... then you might be able to take me seriously."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Might be."

Sybil shakes her head and completely catches him off guard as she pushes him back into the pool. Laughing for what feels like the first time in so long, she stands up and pulls her dress up over her head. Tom knows he shouldn't, but he can't help but stare – she's an absolute goddess, standing there on the edge of the pool in her underwear. His gaze roams over her body – athletic and lithe with what looks to be a swallow tattooed on her stomach. Sybil squeals as she jumps into the pool, her mood suddenly lifted, and swims towards him underwater.

"Happy now?" she asks as she surfaces, her arms instinctively coming up around his neck.

"Very," Tom smiles, coaxing her legs to wrap around his waist and pulling her so impossibly close to him. He can see the drops of water clinging to her eyelashes and make out every freckle on her nose. "How about you?"

"I'm feeling much better," she answers, her voice low and husky, and leans in to kiss him. The bubbling attraction between them has boiled over at long last and neither of them can contain it anymore.

"What's wrong?" Sybil asks as Tom pulls away laughing.

"Nothing," he replies. "It's just... Christ, I'm going to sound like such a horny teenager now... I've fancied you for ages. I think you're beautiful... you make me laugh and I like how we have things to talk about. I just think that there might be... something. Nothing too serious, but I don't suppose..."

She cuts him off with another searing kiss. "You're one of my sister's best friends, Tom... she's going to go apeshit."

"I know," Tom laughs. "Which makes it all the more exciting, don't you think?"

"Absolutely."

**_-xxx-_**

Mary groans in frustration when she realises that Sybil still has her diamond bracelet that she'd borrowed for the end of year ball at University – honestly, never give that girl anything if you ever want to see it again. Even though she knows her sister probably won't be able to find it in that bombsite of a bedroom of hers, Mary takes a chance and goes to ask for it back. Seeing that the door to Sybil's bedroom is slightly ajar, she knocks once before slipping around it.

"Darling, have you seen my... what is this?!" Mary is completely unprepared for the scene before her eyes. What she sees is her (not so) baby sister in nothing but her underwear, straddling the thighs of a very naked Tom, her head thrown back and sighing with pleasure as he lavishes open mouthed kisses to her neck and gropes at her breast through her bra.

"Oh shit!" Sybil exclaims, catching sight of her sister standing there at the door and rolling off Tom (who pulls the sheet over himself in an attempt to preserve what little remains of his modesty). "Mary I..."

"Never mind," Mary says. She's in a complete state of shock – there's something about catching one's younger sister in a compromising position with your best friend that has that effect. "Get dressed... we'll talk about this later."

**_-xxx-_**

Sybil finally manages to steal a moment alone with her sister close to midnight – it's incredibly awkward and, despite her liberal attitude, Sybil doesn't have a clue how to approach the subject without blushing.

"Mary, I... about before... what you saw, it... nothing happened."

"Nothing happened?! Darling, you were straddling his thighs looking as though you were about to ride him like Red Rum... how can you say nothing happened?"

Sybil rolls her eyes and sighs. "Alright, so I may have fucked him once... twice," she adds, seeing that her sister isn't convinced in the slightest. "Okay, a few times, but that's really not the point. We're both adults, Mary..."

"I know you are," Mary replies. "And you're free to make your own choices. All I'm saying is, you're my sister and he's my best friend... I don't want to see either of you getting hurt."

"And we won't."

"Just... be careful. I've known Tom Branson a hell of a lot longer than you have and the man is completely incapable of serious relationships."

"But this **isn't** a serious relationship. It's just a bit of harmless fun."

Mary's stomach knots as she recalls how it was just, as Sybil puts it, a bit of harmless fun that landed her right in the thick of the inescapable situation she now finds herself in. "Darling, I know that but..."

"What do you want from me? Am I to see if your Richard Carlisle has a younger brother? One who's even richer than he is?"

"That's not what I mean at all."

"Why are you doing this, Mary? Why are you marrying him? You and Matthew were so close to getting back together and then you come back from America with a bloody fiancé!" Sybil knows this is completely off topic, but she just needs to know – for her own piece of mind more than anything.

"I'm doing this for you, Sybil," Mary replies. "I'm doing this for **us**, for this family and because... because I'm scared."

"But... you're not scared of anything," Sybil says, her heart aching in her chest as she sees the silent tears beginning to trickle down her sister's cheeks.

"Oh yes I am," she says. "I'm terrified... Oh Sybil, I'm an absolute mess and I've ruined **everything**."

Sybil pulls her sister into a tight embrace and lets her sob into her shoulder – thankfully, they're outside on the terrace and far away from the prying eyes of the rest of the party. "Mary, tell me what happened. I love you and it kills me to see you like this... please, I'm begging you."

"Well," Mary says, swallowing hard and wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "It all started with a man named Kemal Pamuk..."

* * *

_**Next Chapter:** She paces the corridor outside his hotel room over and over again, convinced that she's slowly beginning to wear a hole in the carpet of the finest hotel in Cardiff. Taking a deep breath, Mary raises her fist to knock on his door - the time has come at last for her to tell him everything... and it's not going to be pretty. _


	13. Y Ddraig Goch Ddry Cychwyn

**_So so so sorry for the delay in this - I've been so busy with work and stuff that I've not had chance to write. I hope the length of this chapter makes up for it. It's a bit haphazard, but I like to think that's a reflection of what's going on in the minds of M/M right now... She loves him, he loves her. She's engaged to somebody else and won't (or is that can't?) tell him why. Seeing how much of this takes place in Cardiff/Barry Island, I've taken a certain scene from Gavin and Stacey and re-written it (swapping corn on the cob for chocolate cake) and so I have to give credit to the wonderful Ruth Jones and James Corden for that... Oh and, one more thing, the title translates from Welsh as 'the red dragon leads the way'. Enjoy and please review - I'm so close to the 100 mark and that's something I've never achieved before :) x_**

* * *

Sybil is completely stunned – there's absolutely no other way to describe it. She looks up at her sister – the woman she has idolised since before she can even remember – and suddenly everything makes so much sense.

"Who else knows?" she asks after he's taken several moments to process everything that has just happened.

Mary wipes away the last of her tears with her hand. "Nobody except you and Richard," she says. "I think Papa suspects that something's amiss but he'll never say anything, you know how he is."

"So... even Matthew doesn't know?"

"No, definitely not... nor can he know."

"But why?"

"Because he'd hate me for it, Sybil."

"How do you know that though?" Sybil retorts. "My God, Mary, anyone with eyes can see that he's still hopelessly in love with you and, deep down inside, I think you feel the same about him."

Mary sighs. "Things aren't always so black and white."

"I know," agrees Sybil. "When it comes to you and Matthew, it's a spectrum to rival Joseph and his amazing technicolour fucking dreamcoat. All I'm asking is, are you **really** sure that this is the right way to solve your problems?"

"It might just be the **only** way to solve my problems!"

"But... you know what? You're a grown woman and you have to be free to live your own life, but I love you and I just don't want to see you get hurt. Just... just think about that, okay?" With that, Sybil stubs out the cigarette she'd lit half way though Mary's sorry tale ("_Screw it_," she'd thought to herself. "_Family crisis definitely constitutes a good enough reason to fall off the wagon._"), and turns on her heel to leave.

"Sybil, wait!" Mary calls after her youngest sister. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to snap. Please... don't hate me for this."

Sybil crosses the short distance between them both and pulls Mary into a bone crushing hug. "I don't... I can't say I approve and, if I'm honest, I really don't know what to make of my future brother-in-law but, at the end of the day, I'm not the one marrying him, so I don't have to like him."

Mary can't help but laugh. "You were doing so well then. You almost sounded mature and reasonable."

"I **am** mature and reasonable, thank you very much."

"If you say so darling... if you say so."

**_-xxx-_**

It might be a business trip, but Mary is glad to be getting out of London for a few days. As the taxi drops her off at Paddington station, she begins her usual ritual that has become commonplace in her long distance commutes. After a quick trip to Marks and Spencers and with her usual skinny cinnamon latte in hand, she saunters down to the platform towards the train. What she sees, however, makes her stop dead in her tracks.

"Matthew?"

Sure enough, the person she least expected to see here looks up at her and smiles, the Times law supplement suddenly forgotten. "Mary... what are you doing here?"

"I'm going to Cardiff... I've got a meeting there this afternoon and thought I'd make a weekend of it."

"Then it seems we're there on common purpose. I'm staying in the St David's down in the Bay, you?"

Her stomach knots – what were the chances of them being in the same hotel? It's like the lift at Allen and Overy all over again. "Small world," she smiles and he immediately catches her meaning. "Have dinner with me tomorrow night, I feel like I haven't seen you properly in ages and I hear the restaurant at the hotel is rather good."

"Well, I suppose it would stop us sitting on our own and looking like a pair of right old fools, wouldn't it?" he smiles. "I'd like that."

"Good... besides, there are a few things I need to speak to you about. I feel as though I owe you an apology."

Matthew furrows his brow as he stuffs his newspaper back into his bag. "About what?"

"Well..." she gets cut off as her phone rings. "I'm sorry, I really have to take this. I take it you have company for the journey?"

Matthew nods. "Unfortunately... a group of tediously dull Welshmen I've only ever had the misfortune of meeting once," he laughs. "Anyway, I'll let you go."

"Thank you. I'll see you later."

This is going to be an interesting weekend.

**_-xxx-_**

Matthew leans against the balcony railing and yawns, he's been here several times and adores the tranquillity of the Bay this time of morning. The only sounds he can hear are those of the seagulls circling above and the kettle coming to the boil in the room behind him. He's about to retreat back inside when something across the lock catches his attention. Of course, he should have known that he wouldn't be the only one up this early on such a beautiful day – quite often during their relationship he'd woken up to find the other side of the bed empty and a note pinned to the fridge simply saying '_Gone running. Back soon, M x_'. It's unfair, he had decided, that she can look so flawless and beautiful even when she's running while he himself looks like a sweaty ogre.

"Some people have all the luck," he mutters as he disappears to make tea.

**_-xxx-_**

Mary flops down on the bed and kicks off her trainers – the music from her iPod still blasts in her ears, her lungs burn and her muscles ache in not an entirely unpleasant way. She knows that it won't be long before the endorphins kick in and, when they do, she knows that she'll be more than ready to face whatever today throws at her. Her meeting yesterday had been tedious, dragging on far longer than necessary and making her rather tetchy. The glorious sunshine had streamed in through the windows making the conference room stuffy and uncomfortable. All she'd wanted to do was to head straight back to the hotel and crack open an ice cold bottle of rosé while she sat on the balcony and watched the world go by. Alas, it was not meant to be and the only thing she'd felt like doing that night was curling up in bed, order room service and watch 'Pretty Woman' on her iPad.

She's just about to get in the shower when the phone starts ringing. She stares at it for a moment or two, perplexed as to who on earth it could be – nobody knows that she's staying here and even those that do would surely ring her mobile if they needed to speak to her.

"Hello?"

"_Hello, it's me._"

"Hello, me," she smiles – of course it was him. Who else would it be?

"_So I was on my balcony earlier and I saw you running. I thought you might have worked up a bit of an appetite and so I'm wondering if you'd like to go and get some breakfast._"

Mary laughs. "You almost make it sound as though you're asking me on a date."

"_Wouldn't dream of it... you're practically a married woman now_."

"A practically married woman arranging an illicit rendezvous with suave solicitor who's been spying on her from his balcony?" she teases. "It sounds like a soap opera."

"_You think I'm suave?_"

"I think **you **think you're suave."

Matthew laughs and it makes her heart flutter. Perhaps being alone with him like this isn't the wisest idea, yet she really can't help herself. He's her weakness – like the kryptonite to her Superman.

"_So, breakfast?_"

"Alright then," Mary agrees with a smile. "I'll come down to you in say... twenty minutes?"

"_See you then. Oh and... Mary?_"

"Yes?"

"_Do you have any flip flops?_"

**_-xxx-_**

An hour or so later and the pair find themselves on a train heading through the Vale of Glamorgan towards Barry Island.

"I haven't been to the beach in so long," Mary says as she stares out across the Bristol Channel, her hair fluttering in the costal breeze. "I love to walk barefoot along the sand. I like the feel of it between your toes."

"I know, I remember you telling me. It's why I asked if you had flip flops," Matthew smiles as he flicks through Facebook on his phone. "Oh, look... Tom Branson is in a relationship with Sybil Crawley."

"Mary Crawley does not like this."

"I thought you were alright with it now."

"Yes, well that was before I walked in on them shagging."

Matthew cringes. "Oh you didn't."

"Well they were about to be."

"Actually, come to think of it, that's nothing new for me. You forget I lived with him for two years while we were at University," he looks up at Mary and sees that she isn't laughing. "He's a good man, you know. He deserves far more credit than you give him."

She sighs in defeat, knowing that he's actually right. "I know... sometimes I forget that Sybil's not a child anymore though. I've never really known why I'm so protective over her. I suppose it's because, when Edith was born, I hated the fact that I seemed to become second best all of a sudden. People fawned over her every single second of the day and I just felt like everyone had forgotten about me. Of course, now I realise that wasn't the case at all but it's something of a kick in the teeth when you're three years old and no longer the centre of attention..."

"Mary, you're almost thirty and still hate it when you're not the centre of attention." Even though she's wearing sunglasses, he knows that it's a case of 'if looks could kill'. "I'm sorry, I'm joking."

"Are you quite finished?"

"Yes, carry on."

"Anyway, as I was saying, when it came to Sybil she was just so... tiny. I think part of me wanted to make up for how awful I'd been to Edith. I know you're an only child, but do you know what I mean?"

"I think so. Like you say, I don't have any brothers or sisters so I don't think I'll ever understand fully."

"Do you wish you'd had them?"

Matthew ponders this thought for a moment or two, skimming a stone across the waves as he contemplates his answer. "I'm not sure. Maybe," he says. "I think I would have preferred a sister."

"If I'd known you when we were children, I would have gladly offered you one of mine," Mary says with a smirk.

"No prizes for guessing which one," Matthew laughs.

"You make me sound so heartless," she chides. "Edith and I get on much better than we used to and I do miss her when she's away. She's coming back to London soon. She's bought some gallery space in Camden. British is big this year apparently and she wants to cash in on it."

"People have done stranger things for money," Matthew replies. Mary knows that his words are completely innocent – he has no idea what happened to her in America (well, he doesn't know the **whole **story) - but that doesn't mean they don't hurt. The guilt washes over her with every wave that crashes upon the beach and it's a painful reminder of just how heartless and rather cruel she's been to this man. Even standing beside him now – this darling, wonderful man who has been nothing but kind to her despite everything that has happened between them and who offered her his heart in the middle of one of the world's busiest airports only for her to trample all over it when she returned home with a fiancé and no real explanation as to how she's ended up on this precipice of matrimony – she can't seem to find the words to tell him how much he means to her, how sorry she is for everything and, perhaps most importantly, the real reason she broke his heart.

"Mary, are you alright?" he asks. "You seem distant."

"Hmm? Oh, I'm fine... Sorry, I'm miles away," she replies, slipping her feet out of her shoes and burying them in the sand. "It's beautiful here. Are we really only about half an hour away from the city?"

Matthew nods. "If you climb that hill over there on a clear day, you can see Cardiff. I'd love to own one of those houses someday. They have big bay windows that overlook the sea and, of course, the beach right on your doorstep."

"I can just imagine you living a quiet life in Wales. A couple of children, a dog..."

"A wife called Nessa with a rather patriotic red dragon tattoo."

"And just think, everyday you'd look out of your window and see England across the water and pine for your homeland when you realise just how much it rains here."

They both laugh. "We both know I was never cut out for the city. I **want** a quiet life, one where I can bring my daughter and any other children I might have to places like this all the time... forgive me if that sounds old fashioned and boring, but maybe I am old fashioned and boring."

"You're not that at all. You're **you** and... I think any woman would be lucky to share that with you."

"I'd like to think that, if things had worked out differently, you could have been the one to share it with me," Matthew replies sincerely.

Mary shakes her head. "No, I've never done anything to deserve that life and, besides, if it had then you wouldn't have Lily. We both know that you wouldn't trade her for anything."

"Nothing at all."

The mood has taken a somewhat sombre turn as they continue to walk down the beach, the pair of them lost deep in their own thoughts. It almost seems like his body is running on autopilot when his fingers instinctively twine with hers. Mary gasps and her big brown eyes meet his equally shocked blue ones.

"Oh god, I'm sorry... I didn't mean... I don't know what I was thinking," he says, pulling his hand away.

"It's fine, I..." she sniffs the air and smiles as she catches a wonderfully familiar scent. "Do you smell fish and chips?"

Matthew nods. "Why? Do you want some?"

"Well, now that you mention it... fish and chips sounds like an excellent idea."

"Come on then, there's a chippy up on the promenade that sells the best in Wales. Well, I think it's the best in Wales..." he smiles.

This time, it's Mary who holds out her hand to him. "Well then, good sir... would you do me the honour of escorting a lady to luncheon."

"Indeed I would," he says, taking her hand and slipping it into the crook of his elbow. "_This_" he thinks, "_is what it means to be young and to have fun without a care in the world_." As he looks at Mary waking beside him, flip flops in hand and revelling in the feel of the sand beneath her feet, he realises that the pair of them both had to grow up far too quickly (each for different reasons) and it seemed that they'd started to grow old before their time. It's rare that they get to spend what little free time they have like this, and there's no better way to do it than in the company of a kindred spirit.

**_-xxx-_**

Matthew watches as Mary sits on the wall above the beach, fussing over a chocolate Labrador puppy. He laughs to himself, remembering how she'd invited him up to the Abbey one Christmas and her father's dog, Isis, had managed to get into the kitchens and eaten half a tin of Beluga Caviar. He's so lost in the memory that he doesn't hear the boy behind the counter telling him that his order's ready.

"So, can I assume there'll be a new addition to yours and Richard's little family then?" he asks as he perches on the wall next to her.

"Beg your pardon?" she replies.

"A puppy? My god, what did you think I meant... a baby?"

Mary scoffs. "A dog? No... Richard's more of a goldfish man and, as for babies... definitely not. Ugh, could you imagine."

"I think you'd surprise yourself."

"It's out of the question, Matthew," she tells him sternly, helping herself to a chip.

Deciding to drop the subject, Matthew pulls two plastic forks from his pocket and hands one to her. "Sorry about the wait... there's always a queue at this place."

"Mmmm... it's worth it though," Mary replies appreciatively as she starts work on the fish. "That's my bit!" she bats away his fork with her own and scowls at him. "You stick to your half."

They eat in companionable silence before Matthew realises that he isn't going to get another opportunity like this one to ask the questions that have been niggling at his mind for weeks.

"Mary... why are you marrying Richard?" he asks. "I feel like you've only told me half the story."

Mary sighs and puts her fork down, suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore. "If I told you the reason, you'd despise me... and I really couldn't bear that."

"But..."

"I don't want to talk about it, Matthew. But what I will say is this... I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry for everything I've put you through. All those things you said to me before I left for America, everything we shared and I threw it back in your face."

"I told you to go over there and if you fell in love then so be it... but... nothing, just ignore me."

"Tell me."

"Alright, it's just... this doesn't seem like love."

"Love takes many guises, dearest Matthew," Mary smirks, hacking into the fish again. "Just because it's not filled with grand romantic gestures and public displays of affection..."

"So you do love him?"

"I wasn't expecting the Spanish Inquisition, Matthew."

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition," he replies with a smirk.

"He's dying."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Richard... he's dying. That's why we're marrying so quickly," she confesses – again, it's not the full story, but it's more than he already knows.

Stunned, Matthew pushes his Ray Bans up onto his head, revealing sympathetic eyes and a pained expression. "Oh my God, Mary... I... I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything at all," she tells him. "Please... I don't want to talk about it right now. This isn't the time... we're supposed to be having fun."

"Do you remember the last time we were on a beach in Wales?" Matthew asks, tactfully changing the subject.

Mary laughs. "Ahh, yes... Rhyl. The week after graduation, if I remember rightly?"

"A spontaneously romantic weekend."

"Matthew, there was nothing remotely romantic about Rhyl," she says, remembering how they'd left London in the dead of night and spent the weekend in a rather questionable B&B, it had rained nonstop and she'd come back with the worst cold she'd ever had in her life only for Matthew, darling Matthew, to have spent the next few days looking after her. He'd brought her tea and chicken soup, only leaving the Crawley's London house a handful of times to get a change of clothes. When asked why he was doing it, he'd said that it was his fault she was sick and was trying to make it up to her.

Matthew throws the now empty carton into the bin and licks the last of the salt from his lips. "Do you want to head back to Cardiff yet?"

"No," she says, shaking her head. "No, let's just stay here a little while longer."

"Alright," he agrees and the pair of them sit in silence, staring out across the Bristol Channel and losing themselves in their own thoughts.

**_-xxx-_**

Mary's latest revelation about her marriage to Richard was bugging him - the man is **dying **for Christ's sake. He's always known that Mary has a kind heart (despite what many would say about her), but he's never once seen her as the type to play nursemaid. Matthew knows that there's far more to this than meets the eye but, no matter how hard he tries, he just can't get her to talk about it. He can see that she's hurting but there's nothing he can do or say to make this better when she's got her defences up like this. Tonight though is not the night to press her for an answer – tonight she is young and carefree again, she is the girl who ran down the beach in Rhyl all those years ago and stood in the surf wearing one of his old rugby shirts, a pair of his boxers and wellies, laughing as the rain soaked through to her skin. He remembers standing behind her with his arms around her slender waist to stop the waves from knocking her over – that was the day he's told her he loved her for the first time. She hadn't said it back, but the way she'd kissed in response said far more than words ever could.

"I really enjoyed myself today," Mary says.

"Glad to hear it," he replies with an affectionate smile. They're sitting in a pub in Cardiff Bay watching dusk begin to creep in over the water. Today has been exactly what they've both needed and it's brought them closer than they have been in weeks. Suddenly, nothing else seems to matter anymore – it's just him and her without a care in the world between them.

Mary looks up at him and her heart suddenly feels heavy with guilt again. It would be so easy, she thinks, just to lean over the table and kiss him, reaching over to take his hand in hers and lose themselves in one another like they used to. She doubts that he'd object and they truly could be happy together again if she broke things off with Richard. He's looking at her the way he used to – his bright blue eyes searching her soul, staring intently into hers. It's the looks like this that make her heart skip a beat and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. But no, she knows that she doesn't deserve either him of the love that he could give her – she's hurt him so much and now she must suffer her punishment.

"I... I think I need another drink," she says at last, finally breaking the unbearable silence. "Do you want one?"

Matthew nods, suddenly feeling in need of hard liquor himself. "Yes... most definitely."

**_-xxx-_**

The conversation flows just as easily as the alcohol does – they're getting tipsier and tipsier, both so perilously close to being full on drunk. Her laugh, so seldom heard these days, rings out clear and beautiful as nightingale song as they share another anecdote of the past or some piece of flirtatious banter. They both know that drinking will not solve their problems but, right now, it's a salve for their wounds which offers a temporary relief from the pain. Little could they know at the beginning of the evening that a slice of chocolate cake will be their undoing, this seemingly harmless dessert pushing them over the precipice of self-control and acting as a catalyst for an all manner of sins.

"That's good," he says as he sets down his fork

Mary nods in agreement. "Probably the best I've had in a long time," she replies, licking her own fork clean in a way that, years ago, would have driven him mad with arousal. "Do you want that last bit?"

"Only if you don't."

"No, do **you** want it?"

He feels a change in the atmosphere between them all of a sudden and it hits him just how intimately they are huddled together in this quiet little corner of a crowded pub in Cardiff Bay. With the way he's staring at her and the way she's staring back, the blistering summer heat and the fact that they're alone together hundreds of miles away from reality, it was inevitable that this should be happening. It's not quite clear who moves closer to whom, but suddenly their knees are pressed together under the table sending what feels like a bolt of pure electricity rocketing through the pair of them.

"Do you **want** me to have it?" he asks, his voice low and seductive.

"Well," Mary sighs. "I can see the benefits of having it. I just worry about how either of us would feel after... having it." She feels that familiar fire in her belly as she watches him very deliberately lick the last remnants of chocolate from his lips and images of him doing very much the same to various parts of her body flood her mind.

"Makes no difference to me," Matthew replies. "If I have it, then it would be a nice addition to what I've already had. If not, then I'm already rather satisfied. Question is, Mary, do **you** want the last of the chocolate cake?"

"When I see it there, all hot and sweet, and the way it just melts that cold ice cream, it just invites me in," her eyes flick from his to the plate between them and then back to his again – they're dark with desire and she can't help but wonder if he's seeing exactly the same as he looks into hers. "I find myself just craving one... last... taste."

"Just a little something for the road?"

"Exactly."

"But... I thought you'd given up chocolate cake."

"So did I... a long time ago now. But, as I said, sometimes you just crave these things."

"And if you... what if this one last taste wasn't enough. What if you found yourself wanting it more?"

His face is inches away from hers and it's taking every ounce of her rapidly diminishing willpower to resist him. "Well then... maybe there might just be a way to satisfy the cravings. But it would have to be my dirty little secret... wouldn't it?"

"Absolutely."

Again, it's not clear who makes the first move, but suddenly they come crashing together in a kiss that burns right through to her very soul. He groans as her fingers find their way into his hair, twisting into the thick golden locks and she uses this as the opportune moment to slip her tongue into his mouth. He tastes like chocolate and sin – this is wrong, so very wrong and yet neither of them seems to be able to stop. She wants him so much that it physically hurts and, in her fantasies, he takes her back to their hotel across the Bay where they fuck against the full-length window, and all the nightmares of the past few months evaporate into nothingness with each moan of his name and thrust of his hips – it wouldn't be shagging, it most certainly wouldn't be making love, but she knows exactly what he's capable of and it's that carnal, visceral release she needs from all of this. Her engagement ring suddenly feels like a weight on her hand, causing it to fall from his face. She pulls away, breathless and hating herself more than she ever thought possible. Her father once said that she could be such a child – she'd put a toy down and expect it to still be sitting there when she wanted to play with it again. That's exactly how it feels when it comes to Matthew and her thoughts from the beach come back to haunt her once more – she didn't mean to do it, but she's been toying with his heart. This is the final straw and she can't do it anymore, she can't torture him for a single second longer – he doesn't deserve this anymore, just as she doesn't deserve his kindness.

"I'm sorry... I... I have to go," she grabs her jacket and bag and practically sprints down the stairs.

It takes Matthew a moment or two for everything to sink in and, when it hits him, he downs the last of his pint and chases after her. He battles through the crowd gathered outside the pub and making the most of this warm summer night, all the while his eyes search for a glimpse of her. When he has no luck, he pulls out his phone and tries to call her.

She slips off her shoes and runs barefoot along the marina as fast as her feet will carry her. When it feels like she can't run any further, she stops and leans over the railings as she tries to catch her breath. The tears that she didn't even know that she was crying make tiny ripples in the water and she stares blankly at her own reflection. She hates this monster she's become – they were right all those years ago to call her 'the Cold and Careful Lady Mary Crawley' because that's exactly what she is. She plays with people and, in the end, they always get hurt. She's tempted to throw her engagement ring into the watery depths, call the whole thing off and run away to a place where nobody knows who she is. But no, Mary Crawley does not run when things get tough – yes, sometimes she just needs time alone to make sense of things – and she knows that she's going to have to face him at some point so it may as well be sooner rather than later.

Reluctantly, she pulls her phone from her back pocket and sees several text messages, missed calls and voicemails all from him. With shaking hands, she reads the most recent

_MARY, PLEASE ANSWER YOUR PHONE. I'M WORRIED ABOUT YOU... AND I'M SORRY._

She doesn't even know why **he's **the one apologising but, then again, that just seems like a very Matthew thing to do. She types and then deletes a series of replies, but none of them seem to do her feelings justice. In the end, she decides on four simple words – four simple words that will open up a Pandora's box of harsh truths.

_WE NEED TO TALK._

**_-xxx-_**

She doesn't go to him immediately. Instead, she returns to her own room and climbs into the shower, losing herself in her thoughts as the scalding hot water cascades down her body. When it comes to explaining this whole mess she doesn't even know where to start, but she knows she has to at least try. It's going to be like ripping a plaster off – it will be painful at first, but once it's done then the hurt can finally start to heal. Of course, she has the additional worry of finding a way to draw poison from the wound – easier said than done when you **are **the poison. She feels like a convict on her way to the gallows as she impatiently waits for the lift (which seems to take forever to get to her floor) and her feet move of their own accord until she finally comes to where she's meant to be. She paces the corridor outside his hotel room over and over again, convinced that she's slowly beginning to wear a hole in the carpet of the finest hotel in Cardiff. Taking a deep breath, Mary raises her fist to knock on his door - the time has come at last for her to tell him everything... and it's not going to be pretty.

* * *

_**Next Chapter:** "__My God, how many times do we have to go through this? He is my **friend** Richard. My **best** friend and he could very easily have turned his back on me after all the hurt I've caused him these past few months but he hasn't... and that means so much to me."_


	14. All's Fair in Love and Law

**_Well, what can I say about the wonderful response I've had to the last chapter - as ever, I am absolutely overwhelmed. I really don't deserve it. There are some incredibly talented writers in this fandom and, much of the time, I don't even think myself worthy to receive such lovely comments from readers when these people will forever outshine me and are much more deserving of them. Anyway, enough of that - this story is my baby, I've never been so excited to post chapters as I have with this. Saying that though, I know an awful lot of you have been looking forward to this chapter for several weeks now - I just hope I've done your very high expectations justice. I've taken some liberties with the legal issues raised, but I don't actually start studying them in any great detail until my postgraduate year begins in a few weeks time so forgive me for any errors. Please let me know what you think about this chapter - I really don't know what to expect. Enjoy :)_**

* * *

Matthew opens the door on a Mary he's only seen a handful of times before – she looks so young and forlorn as she stands there in front of him. There's not a scrap of make-up on her face, her wet hair is pulled back into a messy knot at the nape of her neck and she's wearing an old University hoodie and pyjama shorts. He knows that she's baring her soul to him completely, neglecting the masks that she has been known to hide behind.

"Can we talk," she asks, staring down at the floor for fear of meeting his eyes and breaking down there and then.

"Of course," he says, stepping aside to let her into his room.

"It's a beautiful view from up here," Mary says as she walks towards the window.

Matthew sighs. "You didn't come up here to talk about the view from my balcony."

"No," she replies, pulling the cuffs of her hoodie right over her hands. "No, I didn't... I think there are a few things I need to tell you."

Matthew nods. "I do too... You see, I don't think you've been entirely honest with me. So I'm going to ask you a serious question and I want a serious answer... what is it that's so terrible you feel that you can't tell me?"

Mary sits cross-legged on the bed, reclining against the cushions slightly and watching as he mirrors her position at the opposite end. "Do you remember Kemal Pamuk?"

"Vaguely," Matthew lies – of course he remembers. He'd only met the man once or twice but that was more than enough for him to know for certain that there was just something about him that he didn't like.

"Well forgive me for being rather crass, but it seems as though he was screwing me for more than just a good time. I don't know how he did it, but he got into all my bank accounts and conned me out of most of my company's money." She lets out an exasperated sigh and buries her head in her hands. "I've been such a fool, Matthew."

"No you haven't," he says. "You let your guard down and somebody took advantage of that. It doesn't make you foolish, just unfortunate."

"It gets worse though... so much worse."

"How so?"

"He was married."

"Did... did you know?"

Sheepishly, Mary nods. "Not at first though. It was Evelyn who found out first and when I confronted Kemal about it, he spun me some cock and bull story about how they were separated and that he was in the middle of divorce proceedings. Anyway, somehow a journalist found out. My family's still big business as far as the media is concerned; everyone loves a bit of gossip in these times of doom and gloom apparently. It just so happens that this journalist was a freelancer who tried to sell her story to a newspaper owned by a friend of my Aunt Rosamund."

"Richard Carlisle?"

Mary nods. "He and I have known each other for a few years now. After you and I broke up, we went out for a while and it was... nice... but I wasn't looking for any kind of serious relationship back then and we just fell into a friendship of sorts. When things took a turn for the worst after Christmas, he offered to help me out."

Matthew is beginning to feel a little confused – some things about Mary's story don't really add up. "So... all the losses at CNG **weren't** Patrick Gordon's fault?"

"Oh no... Patrick and Pamuk were in cahoots."

"But... how?"

"No idea. This is what Evelyn's trying to find out. He thinks he's found him hiding out in Canada, no doubt on a ranch or something bought with **my** money," she huffs.

"But that still doesn't explain why you're marrying him."

"Oh, Matthew... surely you of all people should now that a wife is afforded more protection in law than an unmarried partner."

"You're marrying him for money?"

"It's just another business deal."

"My God, Mary, this is not **just** another business deal. This is **marriage**... couldn't he have just written you into his will or something?" Despite his situation with Lily and Lavinia, Mary knows that Matthew's stance on marriage is a rather traditional one whereas she's rather flippant about the whole thing - their differences in opinion had been the source of many a heated discussion during the early days of their friendship.

"Well, that's what I thought... but his solicitor said something about marriage would make the will harder to contest."

"Did Richard tell you that then?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm," Matthew replies, not sounding entirely convinced. "Well, obviously this isn't my area of expertise but..."

"It's not just about the will though," she cuts in. "We're still not entirely sure how long he has left. We can get divorced if we can prove we've been living apart for two years and the courts would have to give effect to our pre-nup unless it wasn't fair to do so."

Even Matthew has to admit he's rather impressed by this. She's done her homework and, by the sounds of it, she really has thought this through. That doesn't mean he's happy about it though and the whole thing is still incredibly confusing.

"I don't see why this is so bad that you couldn't talk to me about it."

"Because... Nobody could know. I was so scared, not of being judged, but of what they'd say about my family. You saw how brutal the press were when it was **rumoured** that Papa was having an affair with his secretary. Think of how bad it will be when they publish... the heiress and the finance minister's son. These things always go the same way, Matthew... he'll walk away practically scot-free whilst I'm painted as the home wrecking harlot who couldn't keep her knickers on. I don't care about my own reputation, I've had worse things said about me, but... my family?" she's crying now – silent tears that she probably doesn't even realise she's crying – and it absolutely breaks his heart.

"So... all of this... it's some sort or noble self-sacrifice? You're falling on your sword to save them?"

"That's about it."

"Oh, Mary..."

"You despise me, don't you?"

It completely crushes her when he says nothing and, running his hand across his face, he storms towards the door to the balcony and stands out there alone. She watches him, feeling sick to her stomach to know that this was probably the final agonising blow – it's over between them. There's no way they can continue as friends after this and she knows exactly what she has to do.

"Matthew, talk to me" she pleads, tentatively joining him on the balcony after leaving him for several moments to mull things over. "I've hurt you, haven't I?"

"Yes," he admits. "But not in the way you might think. I'm hurt because, after everything we've been through together, you didn't think you could talk to me. But you're wrong about one thing."

"Only one? And what is that?"

"I never would... I never could despise you."

She smiles at him weakly. "Well then... I suppose that makes saying goodbye so much harder."

"Goodbye?" he asks. "What do you mean goodbye?"

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she stares out across the Bay watching the lights dance across the rippling water. "What do you think I mean? I'm doing you the kindest thing I can and putting you out of this misery by walking out of your life forever. I'm leaving on the first train in the morning. If you know what's good for you, you'll sever every tie you ever had to me right here and right now."

"But what if I don't know what's good for me?"

"Matthew..."

"No... No, I won't let you do this. Marry Richard if that's what you want... I don't think that this is the best idea that you've ever had, but it's your life and if it's what you think you have to do then so be it. But I don't care about what you think is best for me... I care about what's best for **you**. You're fiancé is dying and you are going to need me so much more than you ever thought possible... because I know what it's like to feel loss. So I will be there at your wedding and, even though I know the truth, I will stand there with the rest of them and smile. I will be happy for you and I will tell you just how beautiful you look... because you will, you really will. You're my dearest friend, Mary, and that means more to me than anything in the world... my God, you could kill a man and I'd still stand by you. Do I not mean the same to you?"

"Of course," she replies. "Of course you do. I just thought... well, I don't know what I thought, really. Why do you have to be so nice all the time?" she half laughs.

Matthew smiles. "It's just who I am..."

No more words need to be said on this matter tonight and, just as Mary thinks there are no more tears left to cry, he pulls her into his arms and lets her sob against his chest. His t-shirt is completely ruined, but he really doesn't care. All that matters now is that he knows – one of the things he's always adored about her is her fierce loyalty to those she loves. That loyalty, it seems, has pushed her over the edge at last. He may never understand **what **she's doing, but at least he now has some understanding of **why** she's doing it.

...A storm is coming and, in this moment, he makes a silent vow that they'll weather it together.

**_-xxx-_**

It's an unspoken rule between them that what happened in Cardiff says in Cardiff. Arriving back in London, they can both sense that things have changed between them but, despite Mary's pleas on the balcony that night, they continue very much in the same way that they had done before. They tell themselves that they aren't avoiding each other – it's just work and last minute wedding plans that keep them both busy. If it wasn't for Edith then she doesn't think they would have spoken until the wedding.

_I TAKE IT YOU'RE GOING TO EDITH'S PARTY TONIGHT?_

"Oh shit," she curses as she reads his text. Quickly flicking through her emails, she sees that Edith has been hounding her all week about this gallery opening – as per usual when it came to emails from her sister, she'd deleted them without even reading them. Edith has been working so hard on this for months and she knows that she'll never be forgiven if she doesn't at least make some effort to attend.

_I SUPPOSE I AM. THANK YOU FOR REMINDING ME THOUGH –I'D ALMOST FORGOTTEN_

His reply comes almost instantly

_I'D SAY YOU COULD BUY ME A DRINK TO MAKE UP FOR IT BUT IT'S OPEN BAR. _

She can't help but laugh and, not for the first time, she's so incredibly grateful that this man is still her friend.

_I'M SURE YOU'LL THINK OF SOMETHING._

**_-xxx-_**

He does indeed think of something.

It's in the darkness of the crowded art gallery in Camden that he finds her – head cocked to one side as she admires a painting. She's so wrapped up in her own little world that she almost screams when he comes up behind her and places a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't do that!"

"Sorry," he laughs. "So... what do you make of all this?"

"I rather like it actually... There's one over there that would look rather nice on your living room wall."

"With a rather nice price tag to match, I expect," he laughs. "So, how are things with you? How are the wedding plans coming along?"

"Very well, actually," she replied. "Just some final dress fittings and things to sort out. How are your kilts?"

Matthew scowls at her – Mary and Richard had decided on a quiet yet very traditional Highland wedding at his Uncle's country estate and, much to the despair of Matthew and Tom, the men were having to wear kilts.

"You know my feelings on this matter."

"You have a wonderful pair of legs, Matthew," she teases. "You really have nothing to be insecure about."

"Yes, thank you for that wonderful boost of self-confidence, Gok Wan," he replies. "But I just hope for everyone's sake that it isn't windy."

Mary giggles. "Just make sure you wear your best boxers then." She's glad that they're still friends – everything is starting to get a bit much and she needs him to make her laugh right now.

...Especially considering what is lurking in the shadows on the other side of the room.

She leaves Matthew alone for a moment as she nips to the ladies and, as she's washing her hands, she quickly glances at the woman standing next to her touching up her lipstick in the mirror. She has one of those faces that she recognises but can't place for the life of her.

"You're Mary Crawley, aren't you?" the woman asks – she's stunningly beautiful with short blonde hair, long graceful legs and speaks with an Australian accent.

Mary nods, a little stunned that this woman knows who she is. "Yes."

"You're Cora's daughter... We were on that shoot together for her autumn winter collection a few years ago."

Mary squints a little – it's starting to come back to her now. She'd quite often been roped into modelling for her mother and, during her University years, it had provided a little bit of independent income that she'd used to fund her trip to America after graduation. "Of course!" she smiles. "I remember you now. Forgive me, I must seem so rude but I didn't realise where I know you from."

"It's alright," the Australian replies. "You probably wouldn't recognise me by my name either. I've got married since then."

"Oh, congratulations," Mary smiles, starting to feel ever so slightly awkward. "Is your husband here tonight?"

"Yes," she nods. "Or at least he should be here soon. He works in banking, something of a family business. I think his father is the Turkish finance minister or something..."

Mary grips the side of the sink so hard that her knuckles turn white – she can't explain why, but she suddenly feels sick to her stomach and a little light headed.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, fine," she lies. "It's just... rather hot in here, that's all. I'll just go and get some air."

She's almost certain that the woman in the toilets offers to come and find her later so that they can talk properly over a drink. Truth be told, Mary can't think of anything worse. This woman is Kemal Pamuk's wife... and if Kemal Pamuk's wife is being joined by her husband then that means...

"Hello, Mary."

**_-xxx-_**

She's been gone a while – he knows women take forever when they go to the loo. It's a simple fact of life that, no matter where in the world or what time of day it is, there is **always** a queue for the ladies.

...But this is strange.

He clocks Evelyn standing at the bar, an arm loosely wrapped around Edith's waist – the pair have become quite the couple since she made a more permanent move back to London and Matthew has to admit that they do look rather fine together. Perhaps wedding bells will be ringing for another Crawley sister before the year is out?"

"Have either of you seen Mary?" he asks.

"No," Edith replies. "Oh! Actually, I think she may have just headed up onto the roof about ten minutes ago."

"Thank you," he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "This is wonderful, by the way. Congratulations."

Edith smiles and looks up at her boyfriend – the pair of them sharing a knowing look.

"Matthew," Evelyn says. "Just what exactly is going on between you and Mary?"

"Absolutely nothing," he replies. "Honestly. She's engaged to Richard and they're getting married next week. We're friends... always have been."

Neither seems completely convinced and, deciding that they could keep him talking about his rather confusing relationship with Mary all night, they let him go.

...When he gets up onto the roof, he soon realises that it was a good job they did.

**_-xxx-_**

"What are you doing here?" Mary chokes, her heart racing and her breathing heavy. "This is a private party."

"Yes, and one to which I was invited."

"But Edith would never..."

"No, not by Miss Crawley... One of the artists she's featuring is very good friends with my wife."

"I just had the pleasure of meeting your wife," Mary replies, forcing a smile. "Not for the first time actually. You see we both..."

He pushes her up against the wall of the fire escape, much in the same way that he had in the stables last year, and claims her lips in a rather savage kiss. This time though, it doesn't arouse her in the slightest – it **scares** her.

"Mr Pamuk!"

"God, I've missed you Mary..."

She pushes him away, resisting the urge to knee him in the bollocks.

"I can't think what I've said to make you believe that I could possibly feel the same," she tells him bitterly. "We were over an awful long time ago..."

"Oh, come on, admit it... we were wonderful together."

Mary sighs. "Yes, we were... but that was before the lies and the deceit. Before you decided to tell me that you were only using me because you were unsatisfied playing happy families."

Kemal opens his mouth to retort but is interrupted as Matthew's voice calls out to her through the darkness.

"Matthew!" she smiles. She doesn't need rescuing, nor does she need him to be her knight in shining armour but, bless the darling, he does have an uncanny ability to sense when she might be in trouble. She practically runs to him, instinctively taking his hand in hers and lacing their fingers together.

"Are you alright."

"Fine," she says, glaring over her shoulder at Kemal. "Let's just go... please."

"Oh so this is your latest conquest, is it?" Kemal shouts as he follows them back down the fire escape into the gallery. "You know, you really are a hypocritical little slut!"

"Excuse me!"

"Gallivanting across London, locked together in the corner of a darkened gallery with a man not your fiancé and yet you have the audacity to..."

"You know that this is different. Not that it's any of your business, but Matthew and I are no more than friends. Yes, I love him, I love him dearly because he is the best friend I have ever had. I may be a lot of things, Kemal, but unfaithful is not one of them. I regret every single second I ever spent with you... you repulse me. I was too blind to see it then. You made me think that you were stealing my heart when, really, you were only stealing my money. So how dare you... how **dare** you come back here, with your wife of all people, and tell me you've missed me while you practically force yourself on me..."

"He forced himself on you?" Matthew interrupts – rage boiling up inside him as he suddenly realises what could have happened if he hadn't gone after her. Mary's a strong woman – mentally **and** physically – but he's not sure whether or not she could fend off this slightly drunken hulk of a Turk.

"I don't think this is any of your business."

"Oh, but I think it is," he replies, dropping Mary's hand and squaring up to Pamuk. "You heard Mary, she and I are friends but I love her just as she loves me and **nobody** hurts the people I love and gets away with it."

"And what exactly are you going to do?" Kemal laughs – he's so cocksure and obviously trying to goad Matthew into punching him.

"Nothing," he replies. "Because you aren't worth it."

"Fine... then take your whore, but she'll leave your when she's had her fill."

"You bastard."

He doesn't know what or why, but something in Matthew finally snaps. He'd told Kemal that he wasn't worth it but suddenly an overwhelming primal instinct kicks in and his fist is flying through the air and colliding with the Turk's jaw. He feels his knuckles crack – one of them no doubt broken – and it's only as Pamuk falls backwards, smashing his skull on the handrail of the stairs that he realises what he's done. Panic washes over him when he doesn't move, a pool of blood forming on the cold stone floor.

With a groan of pain, Kemal curls up into a ball, raising a hand to his head and inspecting his scarlet stained fingertips. "You'll regret this," he hisses. "Both of you."

"Matthew, come on," Mary says, physically trying to drag him away – he's motionless and in a complete state of shock. What he's just done is so out of character for him and it's shaken him to his core.

"Should... should we get an ambulance or something?"

"No need," a third voice cuts in. "I'll do it."

The pair of them whip their heads around to see Kemal's wife standing behind them – silent tears streaming down her face.

"You didn't know, did you?" Mary asks.

"No," she replies, shaking her head. "No I didn't."

"I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry."

"Just go."

"But..."

"JUST GO!" she screams and, grabbing Matthew's hand, Mary knows she doesn't need to be told a third time. She quickly texts Edith to apologise for leaving so abruptly and tells her that she'll explain later, but right now she just can't stay here. Matthew's hand is shaking violently and his grip on her own tightens.

...Things can't possibly get any worse.

...Can they?

**_-xxx-_**

The following afternoon, she stops by her fiancé's office – she's decided to take him out to dinner tonight as a thank you and, although she could have just called, she thought it would be nice to go and see him.

"Good Lord," Richard says with a smirk, handing her a glass of Scotch. "I'm the one with the brain tumour and yet you look like you've been given days to live."

"That's not funny, Richard," Mary replies, staring at the London skyline through the full length window – a window that reminds her of those in the St David's and the rather salacious thoughts that she'd had about her and Matthew. However, when she thinks of Matthew right now, all she can see is the agonising look on his face – one which made him look so much younger – as he'd whispered endless apologies while she'd tended to his wounded hand.

She downs the whisky almost in one and, setting her glass down on the table, she pulls Richard into her embrace and kisses his cheek.

"Don't tell me you're growing fond of me."

"I've always been **fond** of you," she says. "But surely there can't be anything wrong with trying to make this marriage look convincing?"

"Are you sure it's what you want?"

She's startled by this question – it's the last thing she could ever have expected to hear coming from him. "Of course it is. I never back out on a business deal, Richard, surely you know that by now? Besides, it's too late to cancel now... Granny's already bought a hat," she laughs, moving away from him and pulling on her coat.

"Where are you going?"

"Allen and Overy. I'm meeting Matthew... I need a solicitor's opinion on something."

"Surely there are other solicitors in London?"

"Yes, but this one will give me an honest answer and one which I don't have to pay for. Why, are you jealous?" she adds mockingly.

Richard pours himself another generous measure and turns his back on her. "No, it's just..."

"You are!" she retorts – Kemal's words from last night coming back to haunt her again. "My God, how many times do we have to go through this? He is my **friend** Richard. My **best** friend and he could very easily have turned his back on me after all the hurt I've caused him these past few months but he hasn't... and that means so much to me."

"You were the one who said that we should at least make this look convincing."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she snaps, beginning to get rather annoyed with him.

Richard sighs. "Nothing, **darling**."

"Oh... grow up!" she retorts, slamming the door on the way out.

**_-xxx-_**

In a different office not too far away, she once again finds herself consoling her friend.

"I don't know what came over me," Matthew says as he makes two mugs of tea. "The things he was saying about you... everything he's done to you... it just all came out. You know that I'm not a violent man, Mary. You know I wouldn't have done it if..."

"It's alright. How many times do I have to tell you that before you'll listen to me?"

"You shouldn't take what he said about you to heart."

"Oh Matthew, I'm a woman who admittedly slept around a little when I was younger... I've heard far worse."

Matthew sighs. "I know, but it's just so unfair. This is the twenty-first century for God's sake. Why is it that a woman like you can go out and just have a bit of harmless fun and end up being slandered, while... **arseholes** like him just... ugh."

Mary can't help but smile. "My my, you're turning into quite the feminist."

"I always have been. Did you not read my dissertation?"

"No," she replies. "It was boring."

"So," he says. "What was this burning legal question that you had to ask me?"

"Oh, that... I was just wondering how much trouble you're going to be in after what happened last night."

Matthew shrugs. "It all depends, really. If he decides not to press charges then I think I'll be alright."

"And... if he does?"

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, won't we?"

Mary smiles weakly – the past few days have been a complete whirlwind. Then again, it wouldn't be a Crawley wedding without a fair bit of drama in the weeks leading up to it.

"How's the hand?" she asks.

"A little sore... nothing a drink or two can't cure though," he tells her. "Do you have time?"

"For the hero of the hour? Of course I do."

**_-xxx-_**

For twenty-two-year-old Gwen Dawson, graduating from University should have been the start of something spectacular. As with many graduates though, the harsh reality of this dire economy have shattered their hopes and dreams and right now is not the best time for any aspiring young solicitor to be trying to break into the profession. A Leeds girl by birth, she'd come to London four years ago to study law at University College – having been knocked back for every single training contract she'd applied for in her years as an undergraduate, it had been time to consider other options. The job at Allen and Overy had been perfect – well, perhaps not **entirely **perfect – having worked many a receptionist job over the years as she'd tried to top up her rather meagre student loan. Still, everyone has to start somewhere, and if this was the closest she could get to being inside one of the world's top law firms for the time being then it was fine by her. Every single day, she watches the eclectic mix of solicitors and clients come through those doors and it does nothing to dampen her ambition. She wants to be one of them – she **will** be one of them – and all she needs to do is just impress someone enough to make them see that she has exactly what it takes to survive in the cutthroat world of the English Legal System.

She's so caught up in her dreams of the future that she doesn't see an impeccably dressed auburn haired man with piercing grey eyes approach the desk.

"Excuse me," he says. "I'm looking for a Mr Matthew Crawley."

"Oh," Gwen replies. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. Erm, I don't think he's still here but I can ring up to his office and find out."

"Please do," the man replies.

"Is he expecting you?"

"No, but it's rather important that I speak to him."

Just as she picks up the phone, Gwen looks over towards the lift and sees the man in question getting out of it accompanied by a stunning brunette that she's seen around here once or twice before. She likes Mr Crawley – they all do – he's nice to her and he keeps giving her advice on how to secure that elusive training contract.

"Mr Crawley?" She calls to him across the lobby. "There's someone here to see you. He says it's important."

Matthew groans which makes Mary laugh. "It's ten past five on a Friday afternoon," he says with a smirk. "It better had be."

The man with the grey eyes approaches the pair of them and reaches into his pocket. "Detective Inspector Mayhew, Metropolitan Police," he says, flashing his warrant card. "Matthew Crawley, I'm arresting you on suspicion of manslaughter. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

* * *

_**Next Chapter:** The silence is deafening and you could cut the tension in the room with a knife. The six friends sit together, each of them not quite knowing what to say or do to make this better. None of them could ever have seen this coming in a million years - of all the people on this earth, Matthew Crawley always seemed like the least likely to ever kill a man._


	15. Actus Non Facit Reum Nisi Mens Sit Rea

**_Once again, thank you all so very very much for your reviews and support on the last chapter - I was a little apprehensive about posting it. Truth be told, I am about this one too. I'm just going to get straight on with it because so much changes in this chapter... it's not as long as the previous few but I hope you don't mind. Oh, quick note on the title - it's perhaps the most fundamental principle in English law and translates as "the act does not make a person guilty unless the mind is also guilty" - Enjoy :) x_**

* * *

_A hotel room in central London. A devastatingly beautiful gentleman and his equally stunning wife. A bottle of expensive scotch and a bucket full of ice to numb the pain of recently inflicted wounds. An argument followed by the sounds of angry, aggressive lovemaking and then silence. Sirens ringing out through the deserted London streets in the early hours of the morning. A false accusation and man's life in tatters._

Matthew Crawley is convinced that this is all a set up – at least he would have been if it weren't for what he had done last night. As he lies here in this tiny cell, staring blankly at the ceiling, it suddenly hits him that a man is dead because of him. Unlawful Act Manslaughter – that's what the police had said. He remembers studying it so well – R v Creamer - a person is guilty of involuntary manslaughter when he or she intends an unlawful act that is likely to do harm to the person, and death results which was neither foreseen nor intended. That's exactly what he'd done – he'd punched Pamuk and he'd hit his head. He'd intended harm and that harm had killed him. He was a killer – a cold, heartless killer.

...What was his mother going to say?

**_-xxx-_**

The silence is deafening and you could cut the tension in the room with a knife. The six friends sit together, each of them not quite knowing what to say or do to make this better. None of them could ever have seen this coming in a million years - of all the people on this earth, Matthew Crawley always seemed like the least likely to ever kill a man. Anna potters around the kitchen making tea, Tom slips generous measures of brandy into them when she isn't looking, and the others – Sybil, Edith, Evelyn, and Mary – remain in a complete state of shock. Mary has just told them everything and instead of a weight been lifted off her chest, it's almost as though that of the world has been thrown upon her.

"This is all my fault," Mary says, gratefully accepting the tea from Anna. "If I hadn't been so stupid..."

"You weren't stupid, Mary," Sybil tells her, shifting closer to Tom as he joins her on the sofa. "You shouldn't blame yourself."

"Oh but I should," she replies. "If I hadn't had that fling with Kemal, then I'd still have my money, the journalist would never have found out and, chances are, Matthew and I would be together meaning that he wouldn't be in a police cell right now."

"Actually," Edith says, her voice wracked with guilt. "I think it's more my fault than yours."

"What do you mean?"

"I told the journalist."

"What?"

"I... I didn't know who she was. It was at a party in Paris last November. She kept asking me all these questions and... I told her what you'd told me about Kemal. I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry..."

Sensing that things could turn nasty, Sybil gets up and makes a swift exit onto the balcony of her sister's penthouse flat – unsurprisingly, Tom follows close behind.

"Are you alright?"

"Alright? **Alright**? My entire family looks as though it's about to collapse in on itself and you ask me if I'm alright?"

Tom sighs. "I'm sorry, I just thought..."

Sybil shakes her head and hugs him. "No, I'm sorry... I'm sorry I snapped. Oh God, Tom... what am I going to do?"

He holds her tight and kisses the top of her head. "You're going to be strong, just as you always are. You're going to be there for your sister just as I'm going to be there for you if and when it all gets too much. I love you, Sybil..."

"What?"

"I said I love you."

She steps back from him, completely stunned at his revelation. "I... I don't know what to say."

"Usually you say it back."

Sybil stares at the floor, wishing that the ground would swallow her up. "Well... it's... it's just all a bit sudden. We've only been together a couple of weeks and... where are you going?"

"Home.

"As in home to Matthew's or home to Ireland?"

"Ireland. I have to go back next week anyway, I don't see what harm a few more days there is going to do."

"What happened to being there for me while everything's going to shit?"

"I'm at the other end of the phone."

"That's not the same and you know it isn't."

He runs a hand through his hair and looks at her – it crushes his heart to see her looking so upset. "Look, Sybil, I'm not going to take what I said because it's true... I love you. I know it seems like it's too soon for me to say it, and maybe it is for you and I'm sorry for overreacting. But maybe we do need some time apart... just a few days. It's going to be mad what with Mary's wedding and I doubt we'd get to see each other anyway."

Sybil steps closer to him again and takes both his hands in hers – a peace offering of sorts. "But... you're still coming up to Scotland though, right?"

"Of course I am," he smiles. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

She smiles and reaches up to wrap her arms around his neck. "I'm sorry too, you know... I think I'm just stressed and what with all this with Mary I'm all over the place right now. I do feel something for you... I mean, of course I do but it's something more than I've ever felt for anyone before. I will say it, I'm almost certain that I will so... will you wait?"

"I'd wait forever."

"I'm not asking for forever... just a few more weeks."

"Well then," he says, dropping his hands to her waist and leaning in so that his nose brushes against hers. "I suppose that's good to know."

She can't help but smile as he kisses her, realising that there is still some good left in the world after all.

**_-xxx-_**

The old Mary would have been absolutely furious with Edith. The old Mary probably would have leapt across the coffee table and started tearing her sister's hair out. The old Mary died an awful long time ago though and in her place is a mature and reasonable woman who, although feels rather hurt by Edith's actions, knows that it wasn't entirely her fault.

"Please say you forgive me," Edith quietly begs.

Mary sighs. "No... because there's nothing to forgive. You made a mistake, simple as. It would be too hypocritical of me to hold it against you for... well, for obvious reasons." The pair of them smile at each other – they've never really been ones to openly show their affections for one another and this is just their own little way of acknowledging that they are at peace again. The silence that fills the room this time is one of contentment – well, as content and upbeat as everything can be given the circumstances – until shockwaves ripple through the group once more when the front door to the flat opens.

Mary's heart is racing – there are only a handful of people who know where she hides the spare key and they're all sitting in this room. Except one...

But that would mean...

"Is this a private party or everyone welcome?"

"Matthew!" It's Sybil who's in his arms first, tearing across the flat and pulling him into a bone crushing hug.

"Oh thank God," Mary mutters under her breath and a wave of relief washes over her. He's here, he's safe, and surely that means everything is going to be alright.

Matthew looks over Sybil's shoulder and smiles at Mary and, as happy as he is to be surrounded by his friends right now, there's only one of them he really wants to be alone with.

**_-xxx-_**

He tells them everything – of course, they already know much of the story from Mary but he fills them all in on what had happened after he'd been arrested and how it came to be that he was sitting with them now instead of on his way to prison.

"So... they arrested you before they got the results of the post mortem?" Evelyn asks.

Matthew nods. "The head injury seemed like the most likely cause of death at the time... the most obvious. It was only later that they discovered the truth... cocaine overdose."

"Cocaine!" Mary exclaims. "But... he never once touched that stuff when we... well, when I was with him."

"Well, perhaps he wasn't a user... but his wife was."

"What do you mean?"

"My solicitor told me that she spiked his drink and it caused him to have a massive coronary. I'll spare you the details of where he was when he died but let's just says he was sans clothing."

"Oh... Well that's... unfortunate."

"Good way to go though."

"TOM!"

"What?"

Sybil rolls her eyes. "You know **what**... So, you're alright now then?"

"Released without charge... as far as anyone else is concerned I was only taken in for questioning," he says, but he looks at Mary in a way that tells her there's so much more to this. "But... there's something you need to know, Mary."

"What?"

"The police released a statement to the press... the story's going to come out."

And, just like that, her entire world collapses in on itself.

**_-xxx-_**

The story hits the papers two days later and Mary seemingly vanishes off the face of the earth – well, sort of. She locks herself in her flat, refusing to see or speak to anyone. There's a gaggle of reports gathered outside her building. She's been a trending topic on Twitter and she's even convinced she heard her name mentioned in the review of the papers on This Morning. It's far worse than she ever could have imagined. Her phone hasn't stopped ringing but she's too frightened to answer it – being the only people who ever bother with her landline, her mother, father, and Richard have all left messages on her answer phone, the latter having only discovered the news upon landing in New York. What she doesn't know, however, is that Matthew is also caught up in the eye of the storm – of course, his name hasn't been mentioned, but for those in the know it wasn't hard to figure out who the "_unnamed 29-year-old male arrested on suspicion of manslaughter and released without charge_" was.

This sort of semi-anonymity gives Matthew the power to slip past the paparazzi almost unnoticed – using the rain to his advantage, he pulls the collar of his vintage Burberry trench coat (something of a self-indulgent splurge a year or so earlier) up around his face as he makes his way into the building. As always, the spare key is exactly where she keeps it hidden and he's able to let himself into her flat. If he'd called ahead, she wouldn't have answered and most certainly wouldn't have invited him in.

What he sees is absolutely heart wrenching – the entire room has been plunged into darkness and he can just about make out her sleeping form underneath a duvet on the sofa. There's an empty bottle of red wine on the coffee table in front of her and a smashed glass beside it.

"Oh Mary," he sighs and strides over to the windows, yanking back the curtains and letting some light into the room – undoubtedly the first it's seen in days.

"Mary!" he practically shouts after his actions elicit a groan from his sleeping friend. "Get up."

"No," she mumbles, cowering under the duvet.

"Please," Matthew begs. "You can't stay hidden here forever."

"Can."

"Oh, stop being such a child. If you carry on like this then they've won... is that what you want?"

"No."

"Good." In much the same way he had done with the curtains, he pulls the duvet off her and tosses it on the floor. He wants to smile as she curls into a ball – very much like a hedgehog invokng its defence mechanism – but he knows that he needs to be stern with her because it's the only way she'll listen in her current state of self-pity.

"Come on," he says, pulling her to her feet and practically dragging her into the bedroom and sitting her down on the bed before disappearing into her en-suite bathroom and switching on the shower. "Right, you're going to have a shower, get dressed and, while you do, I'll make breakfast. When was the last time you ate something proper?"

"Friday."

Matthew lets out an exasperated sigh – it's now Monday morning. She isn't looking after herself and he's seen what these downward spirals can do to her. "Shower. Now."

**_-xxx-_**

Some time later, a much cleaner and fresher Mary emerges from the bedroom to the smell of freshly cooked bacon and coffee. She can't help but laugh as Matthew burns his fingers on the toast, yet there's an ache in her gut that she knows has nothing to do with hunger as she surveys this perfect picture of domesticity.

"Feeling better?" he asks, sucking some of the excess tomato ketchup from his thumb.

Mary nods. "Much, thank you... for all of this as well," she adds, gesturing to the feast laid out before her. "You really didn't have to."

"I know. But I wanted to."

"Are you not in work today?" she asks, tactfully changing the subject.

"No," Matthew replies, shaking his head. "I was taking my holidays from Wednesday anyway but, what with everything that's happened this weekend, the partners agreed to giving me a few days more."

"They know you're innocent though, don't they?" she asks with genuine concern.

"Yes. They never doubted me for a second... and nor did you," he smiles. "So call **this** a thank you," he says, holding out a plate of bacon on toast to her. "Let's eat, shall we?"

**_-xxx-_**

They spend the day together, lazing around with a Gavin and Stacey boxset and endless cups of tea. They had planned on going for a walk around Hyde Park but, seeing the ominous black clouds that lingered over London, they'd decided to give it a miss. They'd started sitting at opposite ends of the sofa but, somehow, had ended up lying much more intimately – Mary leans back against Matthew's chest, his long legs either side of hers.

"I didn't realise what time it was," she says, seeing the time on her phone – twenty to midnight.

"Hmmm... I should probably go."

"No, don't... stay, please. I don't mean like... **that**... obviously, but there' really no need for you to leave." Without giving him the chance to reply, she leaps to her feet and disappears into the bedroom. When she returns, she's holding an old pair of his blue pinstriped Jack Wills pyjama pants.

"You... you still have those."

Mary nods. "I didn't intend to keep them, but I think they must have got caught up in my things. So... will you stay? I don't want to be here alone... you saw what happened to me this weekend."

"You're a stronger woman than you give yourself credit for."

"No, Sybil's the strong one. She doesn't care what people think, but I'm afraid I do. Richard's suggested going up to Scotland a few days earlier until it all blows over."

"And... will you?"

Mary shrugs. "Maybe... I'm not sure yet. We'll see. So, are you staying?"

He doesn't need to be asked a third time.

**_-xxx-_**

The thunder wakes him in the early hours of the morning and the rain hammering against the window in the spare bedroom of Mary's flat makes it almost impossible to get back to sleep. It's incredibly stuffy and, deciding he needs a glass of water, he gets up and makes his way to the kitchen. He almost drops the glass when he hears her scream – it's an ear piercing, gut wrenching scream of pure terror that sends fear coursing through his body.

"Mary! MARY! Wake up..." he says as he bursts into her bedroom to see her tossing and turning in her sleep. She curls up into a ball, her fists gripping the sheets like her life depends on it.

"Matthew!" she cries. "Matthew! Please, no... MATTHEW!"

"Mary, it's alright," he says, sitting down on the bed. "I'm here... darling, I'm here."

The sound of his voice drags her back into the land of the living. "Matthew!" she sighs. "Oh Matthew."

"It's alright," he says and pulls her into his embrace, soothingly running a hand over her hair and holding her close. "It was just a nightmare, nothing more."

"It was horrible," she tells him, so glad that he's here. "I dreamed about us... except we weren't us, not really. It was some time in the past... maybe about nineteen-twenty, I don't know. We... we were in court. You were on trial for Pamuk's murder and they found you guilty. I screamed, because I know you didn't do it and his wife was laughing at me as they dragged you off to be... oh it's too horrible, Matthew."

He swallows hard and kisses the top of her head. "Shhh... like I said, it's alright. I'm not going anywhere."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

Mary smiles contentedly and, pulling away from him, she shifts over on the bed and motions for him to get in with her. They lie on their sides, staring at each other in the darkness and the thoughts of the things that they could do in this bed race through their minds.

...and it isn't long before they crack.

Matthew leans in first – he kisses her once, quickly and tenderly. And then a second time and a third. By the fourth, Mary is the one who takes charge, bringing a hand up to caress his cheek and her lips to his for a longer, languid kiss. He opens her mouth to her and sighs with satisfaction as he feels her tongue against his. His own hands find her waist and he rolls onto his back, pulling her with him so that she can straddle his thighs. Her fingers twist into his hair and she nods her consent as he finds the bottom of her pyjama top, pulling it up over her head and flinging it across the room which makes her giggle. It's only when she grinds herself against him that he snaps back into reality.

"Mary," he sighs, pulling away from her. "We can't."

"Why?"

"Well... there's **this** for a start," he says, running his thumb across her engagement ring.

Sitting up slightly, she pulls off the offending item of jewellery and sets it on the bedside table. "Then let's just pretend... just for one night, please." She's practically begging him now and it's becoming harder to resist (it's not the only thing that's becoming harder, but that's beside the point right now).

"One last taste of the chocolate cake?" he asks, brushing his nose against hers with a smirk, his hands coming to rest on her waist again.

Mary laughs, a single tear rolling down her cheek – she hates just how much she's cried recently. "Something like that."

No further encouragement needed, Matthew leans up and kisses her. Her hands lovingly cup his face and she can tell that he's pouring every single ounce of love and affection into this kiss. He loves her, she's certain of it now and after so long of denying herself the truth she finally admits that she loves him too. Of course, she doesn't tell him but as they make love long into the night she's adamant that she's shown him just how much he means to her – she'd give anything, absolutely anything, to turn back the clock and go back to last New Year. Who knows, perhaps it could even be their wedding that was looming – she could even have been pregnant with his child by now. But no, all that is just a fairytale and Mary Crawley learned a long time ago that fairytales aren't real.

**_-xxx-_**

Some hours later, Mary lies on her side, staring into the darkness and vaguely aware of Matthew's arm draped around her waist.

"_I may be a lot of things, Kemal, but unfaithful is not one of them"_

This was inevitable really – it's been written in the stars before either of them even realised that there was still a spark between them. It was wrong, but it felt so very, very right.

_"__Take your whore, but she'll leave your when she's had her fill."_

She rolls over and stares at him as he sleeps – he's devastatingly handsome, even more so when he's completely at peace like this. It takes every ounce of willpower she has not to reach out and brush the fine strands of golden blonde hair from his face, to wake him up and kiss him again. There's absolutely no denying that she's still in love with him – Richard has been good to her, but the man sleeping beside her has been her absolute rock these past few days. She'd almost forgotten how wonderful it was to be with Matthew in this way – this hadn't been about pleasure (as pleasurable as it had been), there would be a thousand and one other nights for that with people not each other, but this was about love – it was about committing each other to memory. They would forever remember the curve of a hip, the play of muscles under a touch, the sound of the other's name on their lips as they reached nirvana.

"_Mary can be such a child... she thinks, if you put a toy down, it will be sitting there when you want to play with it again._"

If she'd hated herself in Cardiff – she absolutely loathes herself now.

"_I want this, Mary, I want **us**. I want us to be together... not forever, but let's just give it a go._"

Too many thoughts race through her mind – the things that people have said to and about her these past few years. It makes her head hurt and her stomach knot. Checking the clock on her phone, she knows that there's only one thing she can do to calm the tempest.

When Matthew wakes a couple of hours later, he pads into the kitchen to see a familiar sight before him.

'_Gone running. Back soon, M x_'

* * *

_**Next Chapter:** She's a vision in the purest white silk and lace - every inch the perfect bride. But this isn't the perfect wedding, nor will she ever be the perfect wife. The day has come at last. This day should be the happiest of her life... so why does it feel like she's been handed a death sentence?_


	16. Fare Thee Well, My Only Love

**_SO SO SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY! I've moved into a new flat and was without internet for about five days, then I started on my LPC this week (I'm officially a trainee trainee solicitor!) so it's just been pretty crazy. As a treat though, you get Matthew in a kilt and, if you want to know what that would look like, go onto the Highlandwear section of the Moss Bros website (Google is your friend) and there's a model that looks EXACTLY like Dan Stevens. I kid you not. He's totally lush. ANYWAY, I digress, thank you once again for the phenomenal response to the last chapter. We only have one or two more and then the epilogue after this. Let me know what you think - Enjoy :) x_**

* * *

Mary does indeed go up to Scotland early leaving a very forlorn Matthew back in London. He hates being off work, despising having nothing to do. He thinks of the inevitable mountain of paperwork on his desk and emails in his inbox from various clients and has a sudden, overwhelming urge to sneak into the office and get something done. He decides against it though, deciding to actually pay attention to his mother for once, stop being so stubborn, and take some time for himself. He decides to make the most of this time and take Lily from Lavinia for a few days, relishing in the chance to spend these precious moments alone with his daughter – she's growing up so fast that he wouldn't be surprised if he blinked and an eighteen year old woman was sitting beside him on the sofa.

One evening, Lavinia watches affectionately as Lily sleeps curled up against her father's chest – Matthew himself looks to be dozing off.

"You look tired," she tells him.

"Mmm," Matthew agrees. "I've been so busy lately and now I'm not really doing much it's all just starting to catch up with me."

Lavinia smiles – he used to do this a lot when they were together, working himself to the brink of complete exhaustion only to collapse and sleep for what seemed like days on end. "Just... make sure you're looking after yourself, alright. You don't want to be ill for the wedding next week."

"Speaking of weddings," Matthew grins, his eyes drifting towards Lavinia's left hand. "Am I to take it that congratulations are in order?"

She blushes a pretty shade of scarlet and wiggles her fingers. "Yes... François proposed and, well... I said yes."

Getting to his feet and being ever so careful not to wake Lily, he sets the sleeping infant down on the sofa and covers her with a blanket.

"I'm so happy for you," Matthew says, pulling Lavinia into a hug. "Truly, I am."

"I wouldn't say that just yet if I were you."

"Why not?"

Lavinia sighs knowing that there's no easy way to tell him this next part. "I've also been offered a permanent post... in Paris."

"Paris?"

She nods. "So it means I have to move over there and..."

"You're taking Lily with you?"

"I'm sorry, Matthew..."

"Don't be," Matthew says, looking over his shoulder at Lily. The sight of her sleeping, oblivious to everything that's going on around her, makes his heart physically hurt.

"We can go to a solicitor... you can go for residency if that's what you want. I won't stand in your way."

Matthew shakes his head. "Lavinia, please... we both know that I couldn't give Lily the upbringing she deserves if I were to take her. It wouldn't be fair..." It might seem as though he was very easily giving up his daughter but, in reality, it's been the hardest thing he's ever had to do. When he and Lavinia had split up last year, Lily's future had been his number one concern. It had been obvious from the outset as they'd tried to work things out that she was far better off with her mother than she would be with him – his job is so time consuming that the poor darling would be passed from pillar to post as he worked, and even if he made the move out of the commercial sphere and into a smaller practice he still wouldn't be able to be there all the time. Lavinia had a fantastic familial support network around her, whereas he only had his mother and she lives all the way up in Manchester.

No... this really was for the best.

"Well... if you're sure," she smiles sadly. "Oh, Matthew, I'll be back here at least once a month. I'm not going to keep her away forever."

"I know," he replies. "I really am made up for you."

Lavinia pulls him into a tight embrace and she can feel the tension in his body – something's not right with him, but she knows that when he gets like this there's nothing anyone can do to help and he just has to weather the storm.

"Just promise me one thing, Matthew."

"And what's that?"

"Be happy... for my sake."

**_-xxx-_**

He leaves London the following afternoon and heads up to Manchester for a couple of days – it's been a long time since he saw his mother properly, and he can sense her irritation about the lack of communication with her wayward son. He'd thought that coming home for a while would provide some kind of miraculous salve for his wounds but it soon becomes clear that that isn't going to be the case at all. There are too many memories here - even more than there are in the capital – and everywhere he seems to come across fragments of his old life, all of which seem to be mocking him.

...It really does seem like there's no escape.

Isobel returns home from work to find her son sprawled out on the sofa drinking tea (as ever) and watching the Great British Bake Off with a somewhat vacant expression plastered across his handsome features – he really is the absolute image of his father sometimes.

"Have you moved from there at all today?" she asks, her tone somewhat stern as though it's the only way she's going to get him to listen to her.

Matthew shakes his head. "No, I went into town to get some things for Scotland... and to look for a wedding present for Mary."

"You do know that it's customary to buy a gift for both the bride **and** groom?" Isobel asks.

Matthew lets out an exasperated sigh, wishing that his mother would just leave him alone. "What do you want me to do, mother? Go through the Argos catalogue and pick them out a toaster? It's a bloody sham marriage!"

"Matthew James Crawley you stay right where you are and you tell me **exactly** what is going on!" his mother chides as he gets up to walk out of the room.

He stops dead in his tracks, blue eyes wide with surprise – she hasn't spoken to him like this since he was about fifteen. "I... I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a very long, very complicated story."

"I have time."

"It's not my story to tell."

"MATTHEW!"

"Fine!" he growls and it's never been more evident where he gets his stubborn streak from. "But just **please** don't think any different of myself, Mary, or anyone else involved."

Isobel sighs – she's never been quite sure about Mary and she doubts she'll ever forgive the woman for breaking her dear boy's heart all those years ago. "I'm listening."

**_-xxx-_**

Matthew finally has the courage to look at his mother after he concludes his sorry tale – he's half expecting to see disappointment in her eyes but is pleasantly surprised to see something akin to sympathy reflected in them.

"She's still in love with you, you know," Isobel concludes.

"I don't think so... well, I did... but now I'm not so sure."

"Well, I'm sorry," his mother sighs. "But it's as plain as the nose on your face."

Matthew quirks an eyebrow at her and is somewhat confused by her apparent defence of Mary. "I thought you didn't like her for throwing me over."

"That's a different conversation."

"Mother," Matthew sighs. "It has to be this way. Maybe I did something in a past life that requires punishment in this one, maybe I'm just having a spell of incredibly bad luck. Who knows? I mean, it must be something... to lose my daughter to the bloody French and the woman I love to Rupert Murdoch two-point-oh in the space of a matter of days."

"The woman you love?" Isobel asks. "After all these years and everything she's done?"

Matthew nods. "I love her with everything that I am."

"And... have you told her."

"No."

"Foolish boy," his mother sighs. "How can you expect Mary to even contemplate calling off her wedding and being with somebody who actually **loves** her instead of treating marriage like something to be traded on the stock market when she doesn't know that you do actually love her?"

"Because... I mean... Well I've told her that she shouldn't marry him, I thought that was pretty clear. Besides, how do I even know that **she** loves **me**? She hasn't exactly told me otherwise either."

"Oh Matthew," Isobel half laughs. "Surely you know by now that women are often strange and complex creatures. Sometimes we are sure of our own feelings but just need to be sure of those of others before we act upon them. Go to Scotland, and tell her how you feel... the ball's in her court after that."

Matthew smiles and moves across the room to embrace Isobel. "Thank you," he says. "For listening to me and putting up with me these past few days."

"I'm your mother," she smiles. "It's my job."

"And I'm forever grateful for it. Anyway, I have to go... I hadn't realised the time."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm meeting Tom at Piccadilly. His train gets in in about an hour." Sybil having already gone up with Mary, the pair had arranged to meet in Manchester before heading on to Scotland a couple of days before the wedding.

Isobel nods. "And how are things with him and Sybil."

"They're good... I think that if he stays with her, we really are talking about the **one**," he smirks.

"Heavens... Tom Branson and talk of marriage in the same sentence. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Nor I," Matthew laughs and kisses his mother's cheek as both a thank you and a goodbye. "But stranger things have happened."

**_-xxx-_**

They were all aware of the wealth of the Carlisle family, but nothing could have prepared Matthew for what he saw as they approached the house belonging to Richard's uncle. The imposing structure on the edge of the loch was enough to rival the Abbey in terms of grandeur. The interior was exactly how Mary had described it to him, having spent some time here the first time she and Richard had been in some sort of relationship. The open fireplaces and exposed timber beams in the ceilings together with the numerous sets of antlers and various other animal heads mounted on the walls made him think that he'd stepped back in time. From the many school trips he'd been on as a boy, Matthew had always thought castles to be cold and drafty places, but this is quite the opposite. It's cosy and homely – in fact, he's already found a rather inviting looking armchair in the library that he can see himself curling up in and losing himself in a good book whilst drinking what is inevitably incredibly expensive Scotch whisky from the decanter on the side. He has to laugh though, almost bitterly in fact, for it seems that the very gods themselves are mocking him – "_Come here to have break your heart_," they seem to say. "_But at least you can do it in luxury_."

"Matthew?"

The sound of Mary's voice drags him back into the present and he pulls his friend into a tight embrace. There's a slight tension between them now – one that had arose when Mary had returned from running **that** morning to find Matthew still in her flat wearing nothing but a towel having just got out of the shower.

"I saw Tom and he said you'd probably be down here," she says, subconsciously taking both his hands in hers. "How was your journey?"

"Good," he replies. "Really good. I was up in Manchester for a few days... it was nice to be home. I don't realise how much I miss it when I'm in London."

Mary nods. "Mmm... I'll miss it too."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh... I didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

She sighs and, dropping his hands, folds her arms across her chest. "I think... we need to talk. Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

**_-xxx-_**

Just when he thought that it was physically impossible for his heart to break any more, she delivers one final crushing blow and it's one that makes him shiver with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

"America? You're going back to America?"

Mary nods. "For a time... yes."

"On Saturday?"

"It's not exactly a conventional honeymoon, I know."

Matthew runs a hand though his hair and turns his back on her, pacing up and down on this small stretch of beach on the side of the loch. "And... when will you come back?"

"That's the thing... I don't really know. It all depends."

"Depends on what exactly?"

"On Richard," she says, her voice suddenly going quite.

The guilt hits Matthew when he realises just what she means. "I'm sorry... I didn't think."

"It's alright," Mary replies, wrapping her arms around herself as she shivers in the evening breeze. "Like I said, we really don't know how long it's going to be." She laughs almost bitterly as she stares out across the water. "I could be widowed and home by Christmas."

"You shouldn't joke about these things."

"Oh Matthew," she sighs. "You know me... If I didn't laugh, I'd cry and God knows I've done enough of that recently to last me a lifetime.

He can hear his mother's voice in his head as he stares at her – this beautiful, magnificent woman who has stolen half his heart (the other half will forever and unconditionally be Lily's). He knows that this is the opportune moment - he should just reach out, take both her hands in his and tell her just how much he loves her. Then the rational side of his brain takes over from the romantic and he realises how idiotic that sounds. She's emotional and tired; she'd reject him in an instant telling him that he was only trying to make her feel better. Then again, if **this **isn't that moment, then what is? Time is running out and by this time tomorrow she'll be Mrs Richard Carlisle – it has to be now.

"Mary?"

"Yes?"

"I just... I need... I want you to know, before you marry Richard tomorrow," he sighs in frustration – this is so much harder than he ever thought possible. "That I... well..."

"Matthew," she cuts him off, eyes welling up with those tears that she'd refused to cry over him. She knows what he's going to say but she just can't hear it right now – not like this.

"I love you."

She opens her mouth to say something back to him but doesn't get the chance as she hears Anna, Sybil, and Edith calling out to her. She turns her head to see the three of them running down the beach, tacky hen-night paraphernalia in hand.

"Right, bugger off Matthew," Sybil says. "This is girl time now."

Regaining her composure, Mary cringes as a fuchsia pink sash with the words "_Bride-to-be_" is draped around her.

"What's all this?" she asks, forcing a laugh so as not to rouse suspicion that something might be amiss between her and Matthew.

"Your hen night," Edith says like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Mary furrows her brow. "I've already had one," she says, shuddering at the memory of just how drunk she'd been – so much so that she'd willingly licked squirty cream from a stripper's... well, you know?

"Call it round two then," Anna says with a smirk. "Come on, it's just a few drinks at the pub in the village. "Your mother and grandmother are already there."

Mary sighs. "Can we at least keep it civilised? Oh and get rid of all of this," she gestures to the accessories. "Before we get there?"

"No," Sybil replies, very matter-of-factly. "It cost us a bloody fortune and besides, Granny's already doing shots out of a glass shaped like a penis."

"You had better be joking!" she shouts, hearing a snigger from Matthew who's still standing behind her.

"Of course I am! Do you really think us so cruel that we'd make you keep it on?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

**_-xxx-_**

A few quiet drinks had been perilously close to getting out of hand when the two family matriarchs leave the four girls alone. News of a wedding has spread through this tiny village in the Highlands of Scotland like wildfire and everyone is keen to buy drinks for the bridal party – a quick check of their purses shows that they've only bought one round themselves but, as Edith had very rightly pointed out, it would be incredibly rude for them to turn them down and the three Crawley sisters had been brought up to be polite young ladies. It's only when Tom texts Sybil to ask if she knows where his cufflinks are that they realise they're going to be very, very late for the fancy dinner party being hosted by the Carlisles tonight if they don't move sharpish.

"Excuse me," a male voice says to Anna as she tries for the fifth time to try and phone a taxi. "Are you ladies stuck for a lift?"

Anna nods. "We need to be back at the big house by the lake and we can't get a taxi."

"Duncan Carlisle's house?"

"That's the one."

"Come on," he says. "I'll take you. I work on the estate and I'm heading up there now to drop something off."

"Thank you," Anna smiles. "Girls! Err..."

"John."

"John here says he'd take us back."

"Ahh, our knight in shining armour," Mary grins – she wouldn't dream of getting into a car with a random stranger back in London, bit everyone knows everyone else around here and she wouldn't be surprised if they turned out to be related after tomorrow. It's then that she sees it – that glimmer in her best friend's eyes. Mary knows that look and she's determined to do something about it.

...And it's been an awful long time since she played matchmaker.

**_-xxx-_**

Dinner that evening is a surprisingly enjoyable affair and Matthew is quick to learn that the Carlisles are actually a rather entertaining and incredibly hospitable family. He finds himself deep in conversation with Richard's cousin, Rebecca – a barrister with a particular interest in human rights – about the current campaign for marriage equality.

"I mean, think about it," Rebecca says. "Jenna and I have been together since University. We love each other and we're expecting a baby at Christmas, yet we can't get married. At least not properly anyway... don't get me started on what I think about civil partnerships, that's too deep a conversation for a night like this. Anyway, as I was saying, and I don't mean to sound harsh, you have the likes of us and then you have Mary and Richard."

"What of them?" Matthew asks, feigning ignorance.

Rebecca quirks an eyebrow in a way that reminds him very much of Mary. "Oh come on Matthew," she says with a smirk. "Lawyer to lawyer, you and I both know that this marriage isn't exactly for conventional purposes."

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair and takes a rather large gulp of wine. "How much do you know?"

"Enough," Rebecca replies. "Or at least enough to know that she's still madly in love with you and dear Cousin Dickie is only doing this to protect her. Although, Lord knows what from anymore because the world and his dog knows all about Lady Mary's Turkish delight."

Matthew almost drops his fork in rage at the way she's speaking about Mary and doubts that she would find it quite so amusing if she'd seen what he had – his dearest friend broken beyond repair and the ghost of the woman she once was. Rebecca seems not to have noticed and carries on talking.

"Saying that though, I think he's just trying to make sure Alastair doesn't get a single penny when he... well, you know?"

"Who's Alastair?"

Rebecca looks genuinely surprised by his question. "You mean to say you've gotten yourself involved in this family and you have no idea who Alastair Carlisle is?" She leans a little closer to him to make sure they aren't overheard. "Well, Alastair is Richard's brother and they fell out years ago. Nobody's quite sure what it was over but it was massive. I've devoted my life to the Criminal Bar and I've never seen a confrontation quite like it. It turns out that when news of Richard's illness started to become common knowledge among the family, Alastair started sniffing around again."

Admittedly, Matthew is a little stunned – this whole affair is not as one-sided as he first thought. He needs to speak to Mary again but, as things stand, she's unlikely to give him the time of day right now.

**_-xxx-_**

He pauses just as he's about to knock on the door to Mary's bedroom, hearing laughter coming from within.

"Well, goodnight," he hears Cora say. "You need to sleep... it's a long day tomorrow."

Having decided to give up, he steps away and is about to head back upstairs when the door opens and he comes face-to-face with the mother-of-the-bride, the two younger Crawley sisters and the maid-of-honour, Anna, bringing up the rear.

"Matthew!" Anna smiles. "Did you want to see Mary?"

"I... erm... it doesn't matter, she probably wants to go to bed. I'll... I'll come back in the morning."

"No... come in," he hears Mary say. "It's alright."

He bids the others goodnight as he slips into Mary's room, closing to door behind him to give them some privacy. "Are you **sure **this is alright?" he asks.

"Perfectly," she replies, though it doesn't sound convincing.

Taking a deep breath, he decides that this has got to be like ripping off a plaster – quick and painful but once it's done the wounds can finally start to heal. "I came to apologise... for what I said earlier and... what are you reading?"

"Oh, nothing really," she replies. "Just an early wedding present..."

He joins her on the bed so that he can get a closer look – it's a scrapbook filled with old photographs and keepsakes from her childhood up until this very evening and there's even a space left for a picture of her in her wedding dress.

"I love this one," he says – it's her graduation day and she stands between him and Tom, the three friends grinning broadly as they celebrated their achievements. "We look so young."

"Speak for yourself," Mary half laughs. "Is that a grey hair I see there?"

"Very funny," he retorts before becoming much more serious once again. "I meant what I said though. I came to apologise for what I said this afternoon. I was out of line and..."

"Do you really love me, Matthew?"

"You know I do."

Mary shakes her head. "That's not what I mean. Surely you know as well as I do that there's a difference between loving someone and being **in** love with them. So I'll ask you again... are you **in** love with me?"

"Yes."

She leans forward and cups his face in her hands, dark eyes meeting brilliant blue in a look of compassion and understanding. "Matthew, I..."

A knock at the door cuts her off and they spring apart just as Richard steps into the room.

"Not interrupting anything am I?"

"Not at all," Matthew says as he gets to his feet. "Mary was just showing me something."

"We were just getting lost in some old memories... a nostalgia trip, if you will."

Richard smiles and it's hard to know whether or not he buys there story (even though it's not entirely untrue) and suddenly Matthew finds himself wondering just how much this man knows about what happened between himself and Mary the day her scandal went public.

"Speaking of wedding gifts," Richard says at last. "I have something for you."

"Well, I was just going anyway. I'll leave you two to it," Matthew says, taking this as his cue to leave. "Goodnight, Mary... I'll see you tomorrow."

"Night, Matthew," she replies, watching him leave with a heavy heart.

When he's certain that the younger man has well and truly gone, Richard sits himself beside Mary and decides that now is the time to ask a question that has been niggling at his brain for a while now.

"How much does he know about us... us and our marriage I mean?"

"Everything," Mary tells him, refusing to meet his eyes. "I told him everything. I needed someone to talk to and he... well he was just **there**."

"And what does he think?"

"i don't think he approves, but he said that it's my choice and that he'll stand by me. There is one other thing though... something that I think **you** should know."

Richard takes a deep breath – he knows exactly what he's expecting her to say and, in all honesty, if shedoes indeed tell him what he thinks she's about to then he really doesn't think that he'll be surprised in the slightest.

"I slept with Matthew."

**_-xxx-_**

The glass of whisky is slammed down in front of him with a strict command of "drink!"

"So bloody Irish."

"So bloody racist," his friend quips as he faffs with his hair for about the twelfth time in twenty minutes. "What do we look like?"

"A right pair of idiots," Matthew replies, picking at a piece of fluff on his kilt. "Promise me you won't insist on kilts when you get married."

"Promise... besides, I don't think that's what Sybil would want."

Matthew looks utterly stunned. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing," Tom lies, realising what he's just said and not really wanting to repeat himself.

"You've thought about marrying Sybil?"

"One day... yes."

"Bloody hell... hell has frozen over if you're talking about marriage."

Tom laughs and he waves his hands about a little awkwardly as he realises that he hasn't got pockets to stuff them in. "I know we haven't been together long but... you know when you meet someone and you... well you just know?"

"Yeah," Matthew replies, swirling the scotch around the glass. "I know all about that one."

"Shit," Tom says. "Mate, I'm sorry... I didn't..."

"No... it's fine, honestly. Now, come on... if I'm going to go to this wedding then I can't do it completely sober."

"Pub?"

"Pub."

**_-xxx-_**

She's a vision in the purest white silk and lace – every inch the perfect bride. But this isn't the perfect wedding, nor will she ever be the perfect wife. The day has come at last and it should be the happiest of her life.

...So why does she feel as though she's been handed a death sentence?

"Oh my darling girl," she hears her father say as he enters the room behind her. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you, Papa," she says as Robert kisses her cheek, smiling as he brushes a stray strand of hair from her face and helps her to fix her veil.

"So... are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," she lies. Her stomach is in knots and her hands are clammy – she knows that brides are supposed to get the jitters before the wedding, but this has absolutely nothing to do with her impending nuptials – well, not entirely.

Shaking, she takes her father's arm as she prepares to meet her fate – they're all waiting out there for her, the unsuspecting guests who don't know her deepest darkest secrets. He does though... Matthew. Just the very thought of him makes her heart stop and tears burn her eyes – how is she even going to be able to look at him? She can see the look on his face already and it completely kills her. Oh how different things could have been if she hadn't let her foolish, selfish pride get in the way.

And that's when it hits her – her epiphany.

She grips the banister of the grand staircase like her life depends on it, stopping dead in her tracks much to Robert's surprise.

"Mary?" he asks, completely concerned for his daughter when he notices she's white as a sheet. "Good God, are you alright?"

"I... I can't do this."

* * *

_**Next Chapter:** He's never run so fast in his entire life. His heart is pounding and the adrenaline races through his body. He doesn't even care if she doesn't fall into his arms, but he just can't let her do this. He has to stop that wedding..._


	17. My Best Friend's Wedding

**_I apologise once again for the delay - this has been for a number of reasons. Uni is absolutely CRAZY right now and I swear that if I have to fill in yet another set of accounts I'm going to scream. I was also having a bit of trouble with this chapter, it was almost like my brain didn't want it to happen because IT'S THE LAST ONE! I know... I know (well, I do have a bit of an epilogue but, depending on how that turns out, I might end up making it into a full blown chapter). I know that a lot have you have been looking forward to this one for quite a while, and I hope I've done it justice. Enjoy and please let me know what you think - we've come this far and I couldn't have done it without you guys :) x_**

* * *

Mary slumps down where she stands, swathed in a blanket of white and refusing to move. Her grip on the bouquet of roses loosens and the flowers slip from her grip, tumbling down to the foot of the stairs. She stares straight ahead of her with a vacant expression; her already pale face is deathly and rather harrowing to look at. She's literally frozen – paralysed to the spot even – and her father crouches down on the steps before her, willing his daughter to at least speak.

"I can't," she mutters. "Papa, I just can't."

"Oh my darling girl," he sighs. "It's normal to get cold feet on your wedding day. Come on, it will be fine once we get down there."

Mary shakes her head and refuses to take his hand. "No... you don't understand. I can't go through with it. It's just not fair... not to Richard, to you and Mama... to anyone."

Realising that his daughter is deadly serious, Robert moves to sit beside her and takes her trembling hand in his.

"Mary, tell me everything..."

And she does.

**_-xxx-_**

Matthew checks his watch and sighs. Truth be told, he would have been perfectly happy to stay in the pub all afternoon and return to the house when it was done. Deep down inside, he knows he has to be strong – he has to be strong for **her** because, if he can't do it now then there's absolutely no way he's going to be able to do it in the coming months when she really needs him to be.

"You're really going to let her go through with this, aren't you?"

"What choice do I have?"

"Tell her you love her."

"It's not that simple," he replies. "You know why she's doing this... why she **has** to do this."

Tom nods. "You're right, I do... but is that enough to condemn you both to a lifetime of misery?"

Matthew looks at his friend cynically. "It's not a lifetime... just until he..."

"But this will change her," Tom replies. "The things she's going to go through these next few months... I can't even begin to explain it but just trust me. I know from when my Da died that it's just the most horrible experience."

He takes another sip of his drink as he lets Tom's words sink in – it's rare for the Irishman to speak of his father's death at the hands of a long and aggressive battle with cancer. "She'll be a different woman."

"Perhaps... The two of you belong together, I've said that for as long as I've known you both."

"Even in those first few months when we were at University?" Matthew asks with a smirk.

"Apart from that," laughs Tom. "But then this kept you apart, and then that kept you apart... and now you have the perfect opportunity to stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life and you're hiding out in a pub?"

"I'm not hiding," Matthew replies stubbornly. "I'm... preparing."

"Do you want to know what else I think?"

"I suppose you're going to tell me anyway."

"You won't be happy with anyone else while Mary Crawley walks the earth."

Decision made, Matthew stands up, downs the last of his drink and pulls on his jacket.

"Come on, drink up."

"Why?" Tom asks. "Where are we going?" He already knows the answer, he just needs to hear it from his friend's mouth.

"We've got a wedding to crash."

**_-xxx-_**

Robert runs a hand through his hair and sighs – his daughter's revelations have shocked him to his very core and he honestly hasn't got a clue what to say with her.

"How very disappointed you must be."

"You're not the first Crawley to make a mistake, believe me," he replies. "Is it worth all of the lies, the deceit and the stress and general unpleasantness that these next few months are going to bring?"

Mary shakes her head. "No... I don't think it is. But it's too late to call it all off now, surely?"

"It's never too late. Your great, great, great aunt was at the altar when her fiancé decided to call it off."

Mary smiles. "Yes, I remember that story... it would be rather heartless and cowardly of me though."

"On the contrary, my darling girl, it would be the bravest thing you could do... can I ask you one last thing though?"

"Anything."

"Is this what's been keeping you and Matthew apart?"

Swallowing her tears, Mary nods. "Yes."

"Then here's what I think," her father says. "Break with Carlisle. You may lose out on the money from his will, but what kind of father would I be if I didn't help my daughter out? I have the money you need until this whole Patrick business is dead and buried."

"Not really the most appropriate choice of words given the circumstances," Mary half laughs.

"Perhaps not," Robert smiles. "But I mean it, Mary. If you find it gets too much here then go to America and stay with your grandmother. I don't want you marrying a man for little more than a business deal. I want a good man for you, a brave man... Find a cowboy in the Middle West and bring him back to shake things up a bit."

"Oh, Papa," she laughs tearfully, leaning her head on his shoulder and smiling as he kisses her hair.

"Or there's always... Matthew."

"I don't think there's much hope for Matthew and I now."

"No... Matthew."

She looks up and, sure enough, he's standing there at the foot of the stairs, looking devastatingly handsome – albeit slightly dishevelled and breathless – in his Highland wear.

"Matthew?"

**_-xxx-_**

It's hard to run in a kilt – especially when it's windy. They'd suffered a slight delay on the way back to the house when Tom had inadvertently given a gaggle of old ladies waiting at the bus stop a glimpse of his boxers and had had to stop while he'd composed himself with a cry of "My sporran's flapping everywhere!" - which, believe it or not, wasn't a euphemism. They'd made it back to the house with minutes to spare, ever so slightly relieved to see that the guests were all still milling around as they awaited the arrival of the bride.

"What's going on?" Tom asks Sybil, who is looking radiant in a gown of scarlet red.

"Nobody knows," she replies, picking at one of the flowers in her bouquet. "Papa went up to get Mary and neither of them have come down yet. People are starting to talk."

"Good, I'm glad," Matthew says. "I need to speak to her."

"You can try upstairs," Sybil tells him. "She should still be there... unless she's done a Maggie."

"What the hell is a Maggie?" asks Tom.

Sybil looks at him as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Maggie Carpenter... Runaway Bride?"

"Right."

Mustering every single ounce of courage within him, Matthew leaves Sybil and Tom in search of Mary. He doesn't have to go very far when he catches sight of the discarded roses on the carpet and, looking up, he sees her sitting side by side with her father on the stairs deep in conversation with him. It's Robert who notices him first and whispers something in Mary's ear before kissing her on the cheek and, with a smile in Matthew's direction, leaving them alone, knowing that the pair most definitely have one or two things to talk about.

Matthew feels his breath hitch in his throat as she descends the stairs towards him – she looks absolutely stunning and he can't help but think of how this should have been **their **wedding and that she should have been **his** bride on the way to pledge her life to him.

"You look beautiful," he tells her.

"Thank you," she smiles. "You're looking very dapper yourself."

"Well I feel ridiculous." They're dancing round each other – skirting around the issue in a way that is so incredibly like them. "I see I'm not too late," he says, running a hand through his hair. "It isn't done?"

"Matthew... what are you trying to say?"

"I don't know," he replies. "I'm a little bit confused... I mean, I know **what **I want to say but I just haven't got a clue **how** to say it."

Mary feels the tears prickling at her eyes again – she's always known that people are supposed to cry on their wedding day, but she strongly suspects that it's never normally over something like this. "Is this your grand romantic gesture?" she half laughs. "Because, if it is, then I'm a little bit disappointed."

Matthew laughs. "No... You already know that I love you. I'm here because of something Tom said. He told me that I'd never be happy with anyone else while you walk the earth and, do you know something? He's absolutely right..."

"Matthew..."

"No... hear me out, please," he says. "I know you might think that I'm being completely selfish here, but I'm not. Deep down inside, I know you feel the same way about me. Don't marry him... please."

"I wasn't going to."

"What?"

"I'm not going to marry him," she reaches out and tenderly touches his cheek. "It isn't because of you though. This isn't **my** grand romantic gesture either and I'm not going to call it off and then fall into your arms. I'm doing this for **me**."

"Mary, that's the **only** reason I've ever wanted you to do this for."

Knowing that there are no other words that can be said, she smiles and flings her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace and planting a kiss to his cheek. "You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that," she says. "Did you mean what you said about standing by me whatever I decided to do?"

"Of course I did," he nods. "Why?"

"Because I need to tell Richard... I need to tell everyone else."

"There's no need," the familiar voice of Richard Carlisle cuts in. "I think I've heard everything I need to," he says.

"Richard, I..."

"Don't," he interrupts. "Don't try to apologise to me. We could have been marvellous in what little time we would have had together."

Mary nods and moves closer towards her jilted fiancé. "I know... but it wouldn't have been right. It would have been a lie and I know now that marriage shouldn't be based upon that, no matter what the reasons for entering into it are."

"I loved you," he says. "More than you knew and much, much more than you loved me."

With a sigh, Mary slips off her engagement ring and hands it back to him. "It wouldn't be right for me to keep it. It's a family heirloom after all."

Richard takes hold of her hand as she offers the ring back to him and raises it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the back of it. "Goodbye, dearest Mary."

"Goodbye, Richard."

She has to cling on to the banister to stop her knees giving way from underneath her as she watches him leave – it's done. It's over. She's free again at last. The feel of Matthew's hand in her own as he takes his place by her side once more brings her back into reality – he squeezes gently as if to remind her that he's here just as he promised. She savours the feeling for a moment before letting go – she knows that, any minute now, people will come looking for her. They'll want to know the reason why she's just called off her wedding, they'll bring Matthew into it all, naturally, accusing her of having some sort of illicit affair. However, for the first time in so very long, Mary simply doesn't care. She doesn't care what they think of her and she's going to let them talk – at least for now.

Without even thinking, she kicks off her shoes, hitches up her dress and begins to run. She doesn't know where she's going, and it's just another thing that she doesn't care about right at this moment in time. Mary Crawley has the world at her feet and after being caged for far too long, she's going to spread her wings and fly.

* * *

_**Next Chapter:** "Maybe there won't be marriage... maybe there won't be sex... but, by God, there'll be dancing"_


	18. Epilogue - Carpe Diem

**_Just in case you haven't seen - this is the second chapter I've posted today. Go back and read the previous one first if you haven't already. So, for the very last time, enjoy :) x_**

* * *

The roof of the block of flats where Sybil lives boasts spectacular views out over the city of Edinburgh. Mary had taken up her sister's offer to stay with her and Tom in the Scottish capital for a few days while she decides what to do with her life now that she's a single woman again. As they so often do during the summer months, they're sitting under the stars, listening to music, drinking wine and eating a feast of whatever Tom's managed to throw together from the rather meagre contents of his girlfriend's fridge.

"It still amazes me just how much of a good cook you are," Sybil says as she finishes off the last of the sweet and sour chicken.

Mary nods. "Between him and Matthew's rather surprising love of baking, I was very well looked after in our University days," she smiles.

"Ahh, ladies," Tom grins as he tops up their wine glasses. "You flatter me."

"You ought to watch you don't inflate his ego any more."

The three of them turn their heads towards the door, smiling as they see Matthew standing there.

Sybil looks back to Mary who's staring straight at him, clearly stunned by his presence. "I... errm... we'll give you two some time to talk. Tom?"

"Yeah," he replies, also sensing the shift in the atmosphere. "There's some leftover food going downstairs if you want it in a bit," he says to his friend as they gather the plates and the empty glasses.

"Thanks," Matthew smiles. "That is if you don't mind me staying?"

"Not at all," Sybil replies. "The more the merrier. Oh and here's the key to get back through this door," she says, handing him the keys before disappearing back down to her flat with Tom.

"What are you doing here?" Mary asks when they're finally alone.

"I just needed to see you," he tells her. "The last time I did you ran away and the next thing I hear you've jumped on a train to Edinburgh."

"I just needed to get away from there," she says.

Matthew smiles at her. "I know you did, but we were all worried... **I** was worried. Do you want to know why else I'm here?"

"Why?"

"Because," he says, reaching for two of the empty wine glasses. "There was rather a lot of expensive champagne going to waste and I thought that it wouldn't be much fun to drink it without my best friend for company."

She squeals as he pops the cork on the bottle in his hand and laughs. "So you came all the way to Edinburgh just to drink champagne with me on a rooftop?"

"Call it my grand romantic gesture."

She blushes and suddenly becomes aware of what she's wearing – a pair of knee length running lycras, a jumper and some battered old Converse all of which had been borrowed from Sybil. There's not a scrap of make-up on her face and her hair has been pulled back into a messy ponytail He's still in his kilt and she suspects that, secretly, he's growing rather fond of it.

"Well, it can't be," she says defiantly in that very '_Lady Mary-like_' way of hers. "Because I'm not appropriately dressed."

"Nonsense," he replies. "You look beautiful... cheers."

"What are we drinking to?"

"New beginnings," he replies after a moment's pause. "And to us?"

"Us?"

"Us," he repeats as a familiar song starts to play – one that had played the last time they had been alone on a rooftop.

_I can't win, I can't reign  
I will never win this game  
Without you, without you  
I am lost, I am vain,  
I will never be the same  
Without you, without you_

Matthew sets down his glass and offers out his hand to her.

"Dance with me," he says.

Mary smiles as she too recalls the memory. Taking his hand, she suddenly feels as though everything is right and good with the world again.

"Do you really mean it?" she asks as he pulls her closer to him. "Us?"

"Yes," he nods.

Mary sighs. "We've been on the edge of this so many times, Matthew. Please don't take me there again unless you're sure."

"I am sure," he tells her – he's so close now that she can feel his warm breath on her face and count every single individual eyelash and, in that moment, she knows that she's sure too. His lips ghost over hers, so gently as though he's testing the waters. She smiles and returns his kiss and it isn't long before the two of them are engaged in that age old dance of passion that they'd perfected so very long ago now. Breaking apart, he picks her up and spins her round, much as he had done on the night of her graduation when she'd told him that she loved him for the very first time. "_This_," Mary thinks to herself. "_This is what true happiness is_." She knows she's made mistakes – he has too but neither of them are perfect and nor do they claim to be – but if there's one thing she's learnt from her time with Carlisle then it's to seize the day, to live for the moment and to do so without any regrets. Life is short – it's a precious gift and one has to make of it what they can and so, here on a rooftop in Edinburgh, ten years after they first met, that is exactly what she vows to do. The future is scary, but at least they'll be stepping into the unknown together...

...And she wouldn't have it any other way.

**THE END**

* * *

**_A/N: Well, what can I say? It's been one hell of an emotional rollercoaster but this story is now at and end. Thank you so very much to each and every single one of you who have read, reviewed, subscribed and whatever else - you're darlings and I love you. I couldn't have done it without your continued support and it would mean the absolute world to me if, even if you haven't before, you could just let me know what you thought of this story. I want to keep typing because I don't want it to end... but it must... so here goes. Goodbye then, and such good luck! xx_**


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